UE: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
by katekarson
Summary: Part of my Unexpected Others series - an expansion of Harry Potter that sees the story through other characters' eyes.  It is canon-compliant in every aspect, except that it is frequently queered/includes slash and femslash pairings.  Enjoy!
1. 1: Dean and Seamus

There was a buzz on the platform that hadn't quite reached the Hogwarts Express. Peering out from behind the compartment curtains, a sandy-haired boy could see wizarding chins wagging as far as the eye could see. This was the first time that he'd taken this journey, so he merely accepted it as ordinary and sat back into his chair – but really, this was quite a different energy to the usual mood of the day the children went back to school, and there was a very specific reason for that. Had it really been so long since they'd lived in constant fear – long enough that The Boy Who Lived had lived to become eleven years old?

Of course, the chatter on the Hogwarts Express itself was quite different to the reminiscing that was dominating the platform. The hundred or so new first-years on the train were not concerned with wars and villains and survivors. Why should they be, with a far more personal adventure stretching out before them on the train-tracks ahead? They had focused their attention solely on themselves, in the way children tended to, and on who exactly was going to be their new best friend.

For this particular first-year, the question answered itself quickly enough. Who'd leave another new starter struggling with their trunk on their own? Not him. The boy he'd spotted gave him a bright, broad grin when he stepped over to help without asking, and it convinced him very quickly that he'd made the right choice.

'I'm Seamus,' the sandy-haired boy said warmly when they finally let go of the heavy trunk, having spent a few minutes dragging it into an empty compartment. Admittedly, it had been pretty heavy even with both of them helping, but neither of them were going to admit that. 'Seamus Finnigan. Who're you?'

'Dean Thomas,' his companion replied. Even already at such a young age, his voice had a certain smoothness to it; something calm and collected and _brilliant_ that Seamus couldn't help but want to collect and keep close. Good friends sounded just like that. Good friends were fun and mischievous and cool. That was it – Dean was just naturally _cool_. 'What house do you reckon you're in?'

'Gryffindor,' he replied quickly. His mam had been a Hufflepuff, and in Seamus's books that was a cause for concern. He was sure that if his dad hadn't been a muggle, he'd have been a Gryffindor for sure, though, so it wasn't all lost. Who wouldn't want to be a Gryffindor anyway? They were tough and exciting – and their animal was a lion. If he got stuck with being a badger over a lion, there'd be serious trouble at this school. He'd rather go home.

Apparently, though, for all his deliberation about where he wanted to be – and the lack of it concerning where he might _actually_ be – he'd given the right answer. Dean's smile broadened slightly as he took a seat. 'Is that the brave one? That's what I want to be, too.'

'Don't you know?'

Dean looked sheepish – a Hufflepuff expression if Seamus ever saw one. For a moment, his faith in this new friend wavered, but then it returned as he heard the explanation. 'Only found out I was a wizard not long ago. None of my family are. That's alright, isn't it?'

'Yeah,' Seamus agreed instantly, just relieved that the basket he'd put all his eggs in wasn't a completely useless duffer after all. A _wizard_ not knowing what the houses were would be unforgiveable – well. Someone who'd grown up as one, anyway. 'My dad's a muggle too; don't mean nothing to me. So… you don't know anything about magic, then?'

'Not really.'

'You excited?'

'Yeah, very,' he said, nodding emphatically. He wasn't at all fazed when Seamus snorted, just giving him a slightly bemused smile. 'What?'

'You come off all cool,' Seamus explained, 'but you're really dead goofy, aren't you?'

'A bit,' Dean admitted, grinning sheepishly. 'Does _that_ bother you?'

Seamus shook his head, feeling better by the second – well, who wouldn't be nervous about the idea of making no friends at a new school like this? Knowing he'd met someone alright was bound to calm him down. 'Nah. I'm dead goofy too; you're alright.'

'Brilliant.'

'Yeah.'

They shared a boyish, innocent grin and sat back to look out of the window instead, watching the chattering crowd of parents as the departure time drew ever closer. 'Looks mad out there,' Seamus said quietly. Dean nodded in agreement, so he pressed on. 'So many people. Reckon you can spot a Slytherin from what they look like?'

For a few minutes, that was exactly what Dean and Seamus tried to do. Despite the fact that it turned out to be a bit of a silly game – they weren't going to know if they were right until they got to Hogwarts, after all, and anyway Dean didn't seem quite sure of what a Slytherin even _was_ at first – it became something of a bonding experience. Before long, they were laughing more than guessing. A girl with a short, dark bob pulled a face so filthy at them for looking at her from the window that they couldn't help but fall backwards onto their seats, creasing up with laughter. They couldn't have said what was so funny, but it kept them entertained until the point when the train whistle blew. In Seamus's eyes, that meant it didn't really matter.

Dean stood bolt upright at the window as he heard the sound, frantically fishing the platform for his parents, both guilty and hurt that he'd forgotten to do it earlier. Seamus watched, already casually waving to his own mam and dad. It was odd, he thought; odd that a boy of their age would care so obviously about wanting to wave goodbye to his parents.

Would he be picked on for it, normally? Maybe. Maybe – but Seamus just wasn't the type to.

He looked away kindly as Dean sniffed and settled back down into his seat. The train had left the station at a crawling pace, but it picked up speed quite quickly as they rolled out of London and into the open countryside. It didn't take very long, and by the time the view outside the window had gone completely green, Dean had stopped sniffling and his eyes weren't as noticeably red anymore.

'Reckon we guessed all the Slytherins, there,' Seamus offered anxiously, hoping that was a decent lead back in. He didn't want to talk about how Dean felt – or acknowledge that he'd noticed he was feeling anything at all, come to think of it. It turned out that it was fine. Dean nodded gratefully, stammering a little in his eagerness to take him up on the invitation.

'Y-yeah. We definitely did.'

'Going to have to watch the sorting dead closely now.'

'If either of us gets Slytherin now it's going to be kind of bad,' Dean mused quietly, smiling a little as he turned back to look at Seamus. 'But I don't think we will.'

'No,' Seamus agreed. 'Me neither. Punch me if I do.'

Dean laughed, shaking his head. 'I'd be a Slytherin if I did that, I reckon.'

'Yeah. Yeah… was a secret test,' Seamus joked. 'But you can anyway.'

'I don't want to hit anybody,' he said, smiling sheepishly again. Seamus was just beginning to wonder if that was his ordinary, default facial expression when it started to transform into something a little cheekier. No – it had to be that. That looked so much more natural on his face. 'Maybe I could jinx you, though.'

'Like to see you try.'

They were still snickering at each other from the same verbal play-fight when the trolley came along – and even still when frizzy-haired Hermione Granger came in to ask if they'd seen Neville's toad. At this point, unfortunately, their moods also had the assistance of a fair amount of sweets and chocolate, and they'd gotten a little hyper.

'A toad?' Seamus spluttered, Irish accent far more obvious when he was hyper. He spoke too quickly. 'What'd you want a toad for? Hope it's jumped out the window and be done with it.'

'Just been eating chocolate _frogs_,' was Dean's contribution – a little kinder in tone but no less overexcited. 'Might have eaten a _real _toad by accident.'

'They're not the same,' Hermione said snippily. 'Well, if you can't give a serious answer, I suppose I'll carry on asking to see if anybody wants to be _really_ helpful.'

'Yeah, alright.'

Seamus smirked as she flounced off, turning back to Dean to get his reaction. 'Merlin; bit of a snob, isn't she? Bet she's going to be a right piece of work at school.'

Dean was less interested in Hermione than he was, though – less interested by far. 'Are we going to be best mates?' he asked quietly.

'You're not meant to ask that,' Seamus said, blushing until he was quite sure his freckles must have disappeared into the sea of pink he felt appearing. Dean looked just as embarrassed, so he cleared his throat to explain. 'Isn't it a bit uncool?'

'Well, yeah,' Dean said. 'Maybe. But I don't want to just… kind of… leave it, and then you be someone else's. I've been really scared of not making any friends.'

'You?' Seamus blurted out. 'You've been scared?'

'Yeah,' Dean said uncertainly. 'Why?'

Seamus wasn't sure he could explain. Instead, he paused and then nodded. It seemed like the right decision to make at the time, and it must have been – seven years later, he still wouldn't have regretted the decision even once. 'Yeah. We'll be best mates.'

Dean's smile was so wide that Seamus could have sworn it would have to be pinned up, like a bed-sheet on the washing line when too many muggles were around to dry them properly. 'Brilliant.'

'Brilliant,' Seamus agreed.

'We really _haven't_ seen the toad, have we?'

'Nope,' Seamus confirmed, smirking slightly as he reached to open another packet of Every Flavour Beans. 'Might not have said if I had. Do this Neville kid a favour.'

'What house d'you reckon he's in? What house is 'forgetful'?'

'Hufflepuff,' Seamus said certainly. 'The ones that aren't much of anything get put in there.' The thought seemed to make Dean nervous, so he shook his head. 'Nah; not you. You're a Gryffindor, definitely.'

'Are you sure?'

He nodded. 'Honestly, mate. You can tell a mile off.'

'How'd you know?'

Seamus sat back in his chair, pausing to think of a decent, convincing answer. One didn't come forward, but it didn't change his mind. 'I just do. You're just… like that. Just how it is.'

It wasn't much to go on, but it seemed to be enough for Dean, at least for now. He nodded warmly, folding his legs beneath himself and clearing away a few of the wrappers from the seat beside him. Seamus watched him do it – nothing got crumpled or spoiled. He flattened each one out and then folded it up carefully to put it inside one of the bigger boxes.

'Weird,' Seamus said, but Dean just looked up with a little smile.

'Yeah; I am a bit.'

If he was willing to admit it, Seamus thought, then surely it was fair enough.

All changed into their Hogwarts uniforms, Dean and Seamus had been expecting to step right into the castle from the train, but apparently it wasn't going to be like that. The Hogwarts Express had pulled into some old-fashioned station far smaller than King's Cross – decidedly not a castle, however hard you squinted. Of course, it wasn't hard to see where you had to go –especially not with thick-bearded Rubeus Hagrid towering over everybody's heads and voices with his loud cries of, 'Firs' years! Firs' years over here!'

Seamus did much of the leading. He had learned fairly quickly that although Dean was pretty cool and casual, he was also kind of passive and didn't much like flustered situations, and this certainly counted as one of those. It turned out that leading was a pretty important job, too. Even as he clasped eyes on Neville he had a feeling that it was the boy who'd lost the toad. It didn't help that Hermione Granger was hanging around by him, of course, but he just had an air of nervousness about him. Something told Seamus they were better steering clear.

'Here,' he muttered quietly. 'We'll get this one.'

Dean was perfectly happy to follow, and stood by it with his facial expression an odd combination of nervousness and calm – it was as though he was worried, but knew it was illogical, and knew he'd be okay. 'Any other twos?'

'We're a two, if you like,' called over a curly-haired creature with a stouter-looking blonde boy in tow. 'Justin Finch-Fletchley's the name, and this is Ernie.'

'Hullo,' Ernie said, clearly not feeling very talkative – his eyes were fixed stubbornly on the surface of the water. Seamus had to admit it didn't look particularly inviting to him either.

'I'm Seamus.'

'I'm Dean Thomas,' he said, casting a glance back at Seamus before adding, 'and yeah; come with us.'

Seamus nodded, wondering what that had been about. It had felt like he was asking permission, but it felt so odd that he should do that. Regardless, it was probably better to answer Dean's unspoken question aloud. 'Yeah. Hop in.'

'Thanks.'

Unfortunately for everyone involved, that wasn't the last word Justin said. Though his companion Ernie seemed to have glazed over, watching the water as if neglecting to do so would let it pull him in, Dean and Seamus were more than aware of the constant stream of words that came from Justin's mouth. He told them about coming from a muggle-born home, and about potentially going to Eton instead; he was halfway through telling them a supposedly funny story about his parents' reactions to magic being real when Seamus felt forced to interrupt.

'Christ,' he said. 'You don't half prattle on.'

'Do I?' Justin said, blinking awkwardly. 'I'm sorry. I think it must be a trait from my mother – at least, we both talk a lot when we're unsure of something. Aren't we all a little unsure at the moment? We've been discussing houses practically all the way here, haven't we, Ernie?'

'Mm,' contributed Ernie. It was only a monotonous hum, but at least it was a break from Justin's silky stream of consciousness.

'Yes. I think we might be on for Ravenclaw, both of us, but we're not sure. Ern thought Hufflepuff, maybe, which I suppose wouldn't be too awful. Badgers are rather resourceful creatures, I've always found.'

Seamus snorted, silenced by a faintly amused look from Dean. It didn't occur to him how strange it was that he should already be able to read that look, or how strange it was that he'd chosen to obey it after such a short period of time.

'Catch a fly in your mouth?' Justin asked brightly.

'Something like that,' Dean told him, patting Seamus on the back as he heaved forward again to hide another laugh. Something told him that a great portion of his time at Hogwarts – at least, the bits he spent in Dean Thomas's company – would comprise of trying his hardest not to laugh like an idiot. Fingers crossed they'd be able to sit together in all the worst lessons, then. Fingers crossed they were in the same house, actually. The way they were getting on, Seamus thought it was likely, but you could never really tell. Nothing was guaranteed.

All he knew for certain was that he really, really didn't want to be in Hufflepuff if this broken record was going to be, too.

They finally managed to escape Justin and Ernie in the hustle and bustle leading up to the castle doors. It took a bit of fine manoeuvring that Seamus felt quite proud of once they'd stopped, but that feeling faded away quite fast as the doors to the castle – impressive, but he'd been distracted enough by willing Justin to _shut up_ that he'd missed the first glance – everybody fell silent in unison. The woman that answered the door was quite an intimidating figure indeed. With black hair scraped up into a painfully tight bun and lips pursed tightly enough that even the most talented thief wouldn't stand a chance of kissing, she looked like the kind of person that was so wrong to mess with that it was genuinely tempting for Seamus to try.

"No," muttered Dean, apparently already able to read Seamus's facial expressions too. "She looks scary."

"That's the point," he murmured back, but he didn't have any time to speak before she led them inside and started speaking. It all became very intense very quickly. People that had, hours ago, been utterly convinced of their houses, now looked utterly disorientated and anxious – Seamus didn't count himself among them, but even Dean's brave smile was tainted with worry. As such, he imagined he wasn't wearing _quite_ as good a poker face as he'd thought. Seamus had many faults, but being self-deluded was not one of them.

"Nervous?" Dean managed eventually.

"Nah, not really. Just want to know where I am. Antsy." He was surprised to find that was truer than he'd initially realised. He really didn't want to be in Hufflepuff, no – but he wasn't terrified, by any means. Hoping that was a good sign given that one of Gryffindor's most important traits was bravery, he shrugged smiled lopsidedly. "You go where you go. Right?"

"Right."

"Why; are you?"

Dean shrugged, smiling lightly and tipping his hand. "Yes, sort of. But like you say… we'll go where we're meant to go. That's all. I just don't want to make a fool of myself in front of everyone."

"Be fine," Seamus assured him, looking around at the others. Hermione Granger looked practically electrified – with any luck, she'd be in Ravenclaw and out of their hair. He sincerely doubted either him or Seamus would be _there_, after all. "Nothing to get your knickers in a twist about."

Though he could see Dean appreciated the joke, he realised he wasn't going to be able to calm him down about something like this. Your Hogwarts house was extremely important, and a point of pride – or shame – for the rest of your life. He was at the point of almost patting Dean's arm, sure that was what men were meant to do when they wanted to give a bit of manly comfort, when the small army of ghosts came floating through one of the castle walls.

Even for somebody used to magic, that wasn't an especially normal sight. As such, Seamus was quite taken aback – but that was nothing compared to Dean's reaction. He flinched like he'd been bitten by something, and was startled enough to stay silent instead of making any embarrassing noises. He kept his eyes trained firmly on them; even when it became clear they were friendly, he still didn't seem to trust them.

"You know they can't hurt you, right?" Seamus asked quietly.

"Er…"

"They're just ghosts, mate."

"Yeah," Dean agreed. "They're just weird, you know?"

"Very weird," Seamus agreed, but it was clear that in his eyes, this weirdness wasn't necessarily a bad thing. "I wonder if they'd tell us what it's like to die?"

"Ugh; don't," Dean told him, finally turning away from where the ghosts had once been to face the front again. "That's the last thing I need right now; thinking about how I'm going to die. Just let me get through this first, alright?"

Seamus laughed quietly, hoping to get a similarly distracted reaction out of his new friend. For the moment, at least, he did – but all too soon they were called through to be sorted anyway. He watched Dean's face sour, and almost wanted to squeeze his shoulder but soon realised he was beginning to feel his own heart hammer, and the idea of passing on a bit of courage faded. Part of him still wanted to switch places with Dean, though – if they were doing it alphabetically, then he was going to have to wait for ages until he could finally breathe properly again. Seamus was only in 'F'; that wasn't too far away. That being said, he was beginning to feel as though he didn't possess any qualities at all – a blank sheet in a sea of similar young faces.


	2. 2: the Four Founders

It was a fairly typical scene, really. Helga was having a warm conversation with somebody she probably hadn't met before today. Godric leaned back in his chair, propped up with one hand on his sword; Salazar smirked and leaned forward as he noticed, directing some playful insult at him. Godric did love to have all eyes on him. Far from being the type of witch that satisfied that desire of his, Rowena averted her gaze with a light, wry smile. Her friends were utterly predictable, and it occurred to her that so was she, watching them like this. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing. In fact, they were all perfectly happy.

'On guard duty again, I see,' came Salazar's thin, practical voice – not a single syllable slipped on or wasted. She had always liked his concise manner of speaking, though she could see why people would favour Godric's wordiness. He was far more charming, if less polished. 'You _are_ aware that we are not vulnerable to open attack here? That you need not memorise every detail around you?'

'_I_ am,' Rowena said, directing her attention back towards Helga and her new friend. Salazar hated to be the less of two interesting things, and it was an interesting pet hate to tempt. She wasn't cruel enough to keep him hanging on for too long, though, and soon threw him a second look. He was too polite to press her for it. 'Though Godric seems to disagree with us.'

Hearing his name, Godric looked up with a broad grin. His emblem was a lion, and it suited him. There was something regal and feline about the way he carried himself, and he'd been that way since before she could remember. Sometimes she thought of him as a wolf, too, though. He was suitably loyal and roguish – an alpha male if she ever saw one. 'You mentioned me.'

'In passing,' said Rowena, though she knew the quirk in her lips would give the game away.

'We wondered if you'd ever put your damned sword _down_,' Salazar said helpfully, earning a bark of laugh back from his friend.

'Never go unprepared,' he told them both, pointing at each in turn.

'You're a wizard,' Salazar reminded him slowly, folding his long fingers together to a point. 'You don't need your pointy phallic substitute at hand every moment of the day.'

'Really,' Godric berated, but only in jest. The mocking smile he threw at Salazar was easily returned. You might think to listen to them that they hated one another, but the truth was that they were inseparable – best friends of the almost-brothers variety. 'In front of the women.'

'We would have to be deaf not to be used to it already,' Helga said airily, still mostly in conversation with the serving girl.

'You _are_ far too crude far too often for our so-called feminine innocence to remain intact,' Rowena agreed, throwing a reproachful look at Godric. Clearly, the man wasn't much perturbed; he merely looked back at her with the same puppyish grin.

'I don't believe in female innocence,' Salazar said thinly, perhaps deliberately steering the conversation elsewhere. 'Rowena is innocent of nothing.'

'I'm not sure I'm flattered.'

'I merely mean,' he said, casting a withering glance at Godric, who had snorted with laughter at the accidental implication, 'that you are too wizened a person to lack knowledge of these things that you are supposed to be unaware of, if we're to believe the stereotype.'

Still amused, Godric sat up with a smirk. His sword, of course, remained in his hand as a column to support him. The point would probably blunt against the stone floor if he wasn't more careful. 'Are you certain that's what you meant?'

'I could hex you into yesterday,' Salazar suggested.

'No, you could not.'

Unfortunately, it was true. Godric was widely regarded, even at the young age of thirty, as the best duellist the country had to offer. Why he held on so lovingly to that sword, then, Rowena wasn't sure, but there it was. The truth was that all four of them were well-renowned for one thing or another. It was a real power friendship if there ever was one, though it felt embarrassing to acknowledge it. Rowena herself was widely seen as the cleverest witch – and, indeed, cleverest _person_ – of the age. Helga's charm-work, particularly in the area of food, was simply inspired; pioneering, even. Perhaps most impressively, at least to Rowena, Salazar's talent for Leglimency was unsurpassed.

They were young, and they were passionate. Despite the inexperience and ham-handedness that implied about them, though, Rowena believed that they would go on to do something marvellous and admirable one day.

Perhaps when Godric learned to put down his sword.


	3. 3: Dean and Seamus

After thirty seconds or so, Seamus was beginning to feel genuinely awful. Nobody else had been anywhere near this much of a problem so far – and by that, he meant that nobody else had sat for so long under this godforsaken hat waiting to be told where they deserved to go. He wouldn't have minded particularly if the hat had been deciding between two decent houses, but this was truly do-or-die. Unfortunately, Godric Gryffindor's old hat was every bit as clever as they'd said it was, and alongside the qualities Seamus shared with its original owner, it had also spotted the bit of his soft old mother that he'd always tried to ignore. All too soon, the pressure grew to be too much to bear.

_Feckin' idiot_, he thought roughly. _I am not a bloody Hufflepuff_.

The Sorting Hat chuckled as it heard this, and Seamus wondered if it might not have been a bad idea to insult the thing that was about to make an important choice for him. Thankfully, it seemed to be fairer than that.

'Are you really so set on it that you'll think foul words, my boy? Apparently so, yes. Well, you'd better do this decision proud, then. It's never too late to dye your tie back yellow, you know.' Seamus gulped, but it chuckled again. 'Of course I can't change my mind; don't be foolish. _Better be Gryffindor_!'

He grinned widely as he heard the cheers, relieved and proud. For the moment, at least, he forgot about Dean Thomas and which house he might be sorted into. He was a Gryffindor after all, and that was all that mattered. Rather brave than badger, any day.

Of course, the thought returned as soon as he spotted Dean up there on the stool. The hat was big on his head – had it looked just as oversized and silly on him? – and covered his eyes, but Seamus didn't need to see them. He could see him swallow lightly with the nerves, and almost managed to kid himself that he could see his heart thudding through his loose Hogwarts robes. It didn't last very long, though, before the hat called out a house. Naturally, as he'd predicted, Dean was also a Gryffindor. "Lucky bastard," Seamus said, grinning and standing up to cheer with the rest of his house.

_His_ house. _Their_ house.

'You were right,' Dean told him, smile broad and sincere. 'I was nervous, but you were right.'

'Always am,' Seamus told him playfully, pulling him in by the shoulder to ruffle his hair into a mess. 'Ah; give us your mane. We're lions.'

'Oy! Get off…'

Their heightened, hyper state held up throughout the entire sorting ceremony, carried and emphasised by everybody else's excitement. It didn't help that people were still whispering Harry Potter's name and glancing from all sides just to sneak a first look at him. He was right there by Seamus – had been in the queue for the sorting, too. He seemed like just a normal bloke, as far as Seamus was concerned. Then again, he hadn't had a proper look at his scar yet. That'd have to change.

Of course, it could wait a little while, at least. They'd probably be dorming together, and right now? There were _ghosts_ to talk to.


	4. 4: Pansy Parkinson

The rest of Slytherin table was in a state of massive fuss over one student in particular at the moment, and it was getting to be rather annoying. She wouldn't necessarily have minded, but the name on everybody's lips was 'Harry Potter' – not, as it should have been, 'Pansy Parkinson'. The Parkinsons had been attending Hogwarts as members of Slytherin house for years, and as far as she was concerned, this combined with her well-groomed appearance and pure, pure blood qualified her to be one of the most powerful students in her year.

'Honestly,' she said, lips pressed together firmly in an unpleasant pout, 'I couldn't give two bits of frog-spit whether Potter's here or not. It's not as though he'll be anything special.'

'Grew up with muggles, I heard,' chipped in Daphne Greengrass, who'd been in her compartment on the train – her and Pansy's parents had ushered them together, which led Pansy to believe it was probably best to befriend her. Contacts were contacts, especially pureblood ones, and she hadn't proven to be too bad so far. 'I bet he's just like the rest of us.'

'Worse,' Pansy suggested, smirking back at Draco Malfoy, who seemed to approve. The Malfoys were well worth getting involved with, too. As far as she'd seen so far, their son seemed exactly the type of person she liked anyway. 'Nobody knows what that spell did to him; maybe it wasn't nothing at all. He might have less brain cells than we do, for all we know.' Daphne sniggered, and to Pansy's delight she wasn't the only one. Pleased she'd dragged back some of the spotlight, she pressed on. 'We should take bets for how long it takes him to set fire to his robes.'

'First chance he gets,' drawled Draco. 'And seeing him do it would be return enough on the money. Seen who he's sitting with?'

Pansy hadn't. She turned to look at the Gryffindor table again, smirking as she caught sight of the familiar mass of ginger hair. Though her family only chose to associate with the very best of the pureblood families, it didn't mean she didn't know how to recognise the others. 'A Weasley. Maybe if they put their heads together they'll be able to afford a decent idea.'

Draco and the two blocks of meat he'd already surrounded himself with chuckled; he grinned wickedly in agreement, and Pansy could see that he'd connected the Slytherins' general dislike for Potter with his ability to make friends. He could utilise it just as she could. Enjoying the idea of having something in common with him, she sent back the same smile as he spoke again.

'Maybe.'


	5. 5: Neville

Just like every other first-year, Neville Longbottom felt he had a lot on his plate. Not only was he about to embark on learning magic, of all things, but he was also up against the difficult task of finding himself a couple of friends. Unluckily, everybody else seemed to be less concerned about this than he was – whether they were just pretending not to be, he wasn't sure. Either way, he was meeting with a brick wall at every turn.

Gryffindor seemed the wrong decision. He was sure Hufflepuffs would be a lot less intimidating – but here he was, and he was sure that Gran would be proud of him if nothing else.

'Er,' he said quietly, but the blonde-haired girl he'd said it to seemed deeply fixated on the state of her uniform.

He'd have more luck with his new dorm-mates. Probably.

Unwilling to let Trevor go again, he kept a tight hold on him as they made their way through the corridors up to where the Gryffindor common room was supposed to be. Though Gran had been telling him what Hogwarts looked like for years, this had never been what he'd pictured. Everything – but _everything_ – moved. Suits of armour, portraits; even the staircases seemed fidgety and bored. Were they like this all the time, he wondered, or just after the long stretch of staying still over the summer? Did that even make sense?

Even with so much to look at, though, the walk up to the common room seemed to take forever. He wasn't sure he'd ever remember the way down, or up. That was yet another reason he had to make sure he could get hold of a few friends, or at least a couple of more organised people he could tag along with. At least then he wouldn't get lost and… oh, die in a broom cupboard or something. This was him he was thinking about, after all. Dying like that felt entirely possible.

Trevor croaked quietly, so he smiled down at him. 'Won't really.'

The blonde-haired girl gave him an odd look – for a moment he was pleased, hoping she might want to talk, but then he realised it wasn't that kind of look by anybody's standards. Besides, she broke eye contact soon after. Better remember not to talk to Trevor out loud if that was going to happen. He was enough of an obstacle to himself already without adding an extra dose of weirdness to the plate.

Actually, where was Hermione, who'd helped him on the train? She seemed like a nice girl, if a bit outspoken. At least she seemed to know what was going on and how to cope with it all. He was sure she'd been sorted into Gryffindor, even though it had come as a surprise… ah, yes. There she was, right at the front with the red-headed prefect – and in the middle of a conversation with him. Well, that was no good. Neville couldn't approach a feisty-looking rabbit in a cabbage patch, let alone somebody who was a little bit older than him. Maybe he'd better leave it until later. It wasn't as though he needed a companion right this second anyway. At least at the moment he knew where he was going.


	6. 6: Dean and Seamus

'Slow down! Where are we going?'

Seamus only spared a few seconds to turn back to answer Dean's question. This was clearly a mission of the utmost importance, and given the way they'd already taken to understanding each other so well, he was quite surprised Dean didn't already know what it was about. 'Beds, mate.' He turned and started dashing up the stairs in the direction Percy had pointed them again, far too keen to explain for much longer. 'We need to go and choose beds.'

'Not so fast, though?'

A moment later, it didn't matter. They arrived at the door and Seamus barrelled into it, spotting his case next to a bed by the window. Excellent. 'Dean, which is yours?'

He pointed out some luggage at the foot of the bed across from it, and tutted when Seamus tried to pull it by himself. 'It's heavy, remember? Where are we putting it?'

They dragged it carefully to the foot of the bed to the left of Seamus's, taking care to push the other person's trunk – Neville Longbottom's, according to the label – back into the empty position. Seamus dropped down on his bed when it was finished, glancing over to admire their handiwork. 'That's better. Can't be too careful, you know?'

'Why's that?'

Seamus gave him a look. 'You don't know who you're going to get next to you. The lad with the toad's going to be in here. You don't want to wake up with a toad on your face, do you?' Dean shook his head quickly, flopping down onto his own bed as if to further claim it as his. 'Yeah. Thought not. But it's better now.'

'Yeah,' Dean agreed absent-mindedly. A few moments later he seemed to regain the thought he'd been chasing, and spoke up again. 'Took a while to sort you, didn't it?'

He'd been hoping they wouldn't have to talk about it, but he supposed the sorting was still the only thing on his mind, too. It made sense that his new friend would ask. Nodding wearily, he kicked his shoes off to lie down instead. It had been a long day, after all. 'Couldn't decide where to put me.'

'Well, yeah. Between Gryffindor and what?'

He didn't mean to tell him, really – especially not after the conversation on the train. Later on, he'd put it down to tiredness, or maybe just a desperation to make sure Dean kept wanting to be his friend. Friends told each other the truth, and that was that. 'Promise you won't be a gobshite about it?'

'Got no-one to tell but you, have I?'

Seamus had to admit that was true. 'Yeah, alright.' He looked at the door, as if concerned it'd burst open as he spoke – that'd be the end of his Hogwarts existence and no mistake. The whole dorm did not need to know about his half-arsed personality. 'Hufflepuff.'

Dean scrunched up his nose, thinking about it. 'Well, why didn't it?'

'Because I'm _not a feckin' Hufflepuff_,' Seamus said hotly, earning a brave laugh from his companion.

'Yeah, I know,' he said, 'or you'd be there now. But did it say why?'

He shrugged, shy that his new friend already found his outbursts funny. 'Dunno. I just swore at it.'

Dean snorted, sitting up cross-legged on his bed still – clearly, he still wanted to talk even if he was tired. 'You swore at it? That's hilarious. Bet that's never happened before.'

'Oh, I bet it has. It'd have gotten it more than once if it tried to put me in Slytherin.'

Apparently Dean thought that was funny too, but the conversation ended soon after as their new dorm-mates came in. Neville didn't seem to notice that his things had been shifted, and Harry and Ron both seemed like decent lads. All things considered, even if they did have both the saviour of the wizarding world and a toad in their dorm, it all seemed quite normal. _Good_ normal.

'Seamus?' Dean whispered after lights-out, leaning across from his bed a little to poke his head out of the curtain.

'Yeah?' he grunted back, feeling as sleepy as his fellow first-year sounded.

'Just… think we're pretty lucky.'

He wasn't sure what to say to that, but it definitely brought a grin to his face. He nodded and settled back down into his pillow, thinking about it. It was true. What were the chances of two boys being in the same compartment on the train, and then being sorted into the same house, and then getting beds next to each other?


	7. 7: the Marauders

'What exactly are the chances of all four of us being sorted into the same house, eh?'

'Ask Remus. He seems the type to know.'

Remus smiled slightly at Peter's early judgement of him, not sure whether to feel complimented or nervous that it was true. Studious kids weren't popular kids, after all. 'Slight,' he said, in the hopes that being so vague would make him sound friendly without showing off. It seemed to work.

'Slight,' Sirius repeated, lounging back in his chair with a confident grin as James kindly poured him another glass of orange juice. 'That's it.'

Not that he'd ever say it, of course, but Remus was already thinking that Sirius's chances of being sorted into Gryffindor had been particularly slight. He wasn't the staring type, but he had already caught a handful of Slytherins throwing displeased looks over in his direction, and he remembered very clearly what his new friend had said on the train about his family's house history.

That being said, he clearly was a Gryffindor. There was no doubt about it, and nor was there any chance involved. The Sorting Hat didn't flip a coin. It was just odd that he should grow up so different to the rest of his family; that was all.

'Our dorm is literally going to be the best place to live in the history of this castle,' said Sirius, as if he was saying so purely to demonstrate exactly how bold and confident he was. Unfortunately, not everybody saw this obvious confidence as such a sparkling character trait, though he clearly supposed it must be. Redheaded Lily Evans, who Remus admittedly rather liked the look of, rolled her eyes at him as she reached for one of the bread-rolls.

'Maybe for you boys,' she said thinly. 'For anybody else I doubt it'd be much fun.'

'Give us some credit, Evans,' James said, grinning at Sirius broadly. It was obvious already that this was going to turn into a common occurrence, especially given the way Sirius grinned right back in the same cheeky manner. 'You've only known us a day.'

'That's long enough already.'

She leaned back to her place to talk to the other girls again. They had be Marlene McKinnon and Mary Macdonald, if Remus's memory of the sorting ceremony served. Part of Remus wanted to join them. It'd be the less intimidating option, certainly – but best friends did not come from the easiest routes through life. Sirius, James and Peter were brilliant, and they'd be great fun if he could carry on convincing them that he was, too.

'You're quiet,' Peter said, slipping a few more sausages onto his plate – surely that was three helpings he'd had now? That being said, the food was very good here. 'You alright?'

'Yeah, I'm fine,' he said, genuinely feeling better even just from being asked about it. 'I might be tired, I think. Long day yesterday.'

'Mm,' Peter agreed, muted by the mouthful of sausage he'd just taken.

'No time to be tired,' James told him, leaning across the table to point at him, wearing a mischievous grin. 'Charms first. It starts now; _we_ start now. This is going to be the best seven years of any of our lives and we're not wasting a day of them.'

'That's what we like to hear,' Sirius agreed, slapping him on the back. 'That's why we're friends.'

'Personally,' Lily said, eyes darting across to Remus with a slight, brief smile, 'I think you're ridiculous.'

'Personally,' retorted Sirius, pulling the plate of bacon closer to himself to transfer a few bits over. Really. Had none of them ever eaten before? 'I want to raise hell whether you like it or not.'

'Clearly,' she said, pulling it back her way for a bit of her own.

James looked between them with a cheeky smile. 'Looks like you've got yourself an admirer already, Sirius, old boy.'

'To be expected,' he agreed, with an air of mock superiority. 'She's clearly got good taste, even for a ginger.'

It was hopeless arrogance, but there was simply something about him – and James and Peter, too – that drew Remus in. They were good people; he could just tell. There was just something naturally right about befriending them, even if that thing wasn't exactly making itself obvious to him. Alright, yes. Maybe they wouldn't be so pleasant if they found out his secret, but not a lot of people would be. They didn't have to know for now anyway.

Peter cleared his throat, throwing him a meek and sheepish smile. 'You're gone again, aren't you? Wake up – and, er… are you going to eat that? None left on the main plate…'

'Help yourself,' Remus said warmly, settling back into his seat. He wasn't built for raising hell, but nor was a castle built for teaching in. He'd be okay.


	8. 8: Dean and Seamus

It didn't _feel_ cool. Well, why would it? Being forthright, even with figures of authority, was just in Seamus's nature. Arrogance wasn't. It had come as a complete surprise to him to even hear it suggested that it was a 'cool' trait, but of course it was pretty nice to hear. He tried to keep the grin off his face just for the moment, though, as he made sure he hadn't misheard.

'What'd you say, Deano?'

'I said it's cool. That you can just… I don't know. Talk to Professor Quirrell like that. Just come out straight away and ask him about that zombie, no bother.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. It's… confident. I don't know. You're just funny.'

Now the grin refused to stay hidden. It spread across his face like a picnic blanket – big, red and unmistakeable on a field of freckles left over from summer. Maybe it was uncool to be this pleased about it. It'd probably be better to pretend it didn't mean anything to him; like he got told this kind of thing all the time. That was easier said than done. 'Thanks.'

Dean shrugged, smiling slightly. 'Just true. You just say what you think. I wish I could.'

'You can.' Dean wrinkled up his nose, uncertain, so Seamus pressed on. 'No, no; don't. You can. Who's going to stop you saying what you want? It's none of anyone's business to do that. Say you want to ask a question in a lesson. What's the worst that could happen?'

'Er…'

'They won't answer it.'

'Could shout, I suppose, if it's a professor.'

Seamus grinned. 'You think Quirrell's about to start shouting at anyone?'

'Can't ever be sure.'

He shrugged, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder. 'Guess not. Guess I just don't care.'

'_That's_ cool,' Dean told him.

Through his second grinning attack, it suddenly occurred to Seamus that this wasn't the kind of conversation boys had often – not when they'd been friends for a while, anyway. That meant this was one of the only opportunities he'd get to say something just as stupid back, probably, and given what Dean had risked to say this to him, he thought he owed it to the boy to be equally honest back. 'You're pretty cool too, you know.'

'You don't need to say that. I don't mind.'

'No, I mean it.' Seamus looked around, wondering if anybody important was close enough to hear what he was about to say and to make judgements on it. That'd be bad. That'd be a fate worth shutting up to avoid. 'It's what I thought on the Hogwarts Express. I thought – there, him. He looks proper cool.'

'Him who can't even move his own trunk?' Dean said sceptically. Seamus elbowed him in the side.

'Shut up; why'd I lie? You're cool, and yes you _are_, and you can feckin' deal with it.'

They grinned sheepishly at each other, halting in the centre of the staircase as it began to move. It had been an odd moment, but it had passed now – tossed into the air with the pivoting stone that didn't know or care whether they'd stopped or just carried on walking off the edge of it.

'Horrible way to die,' Dean mused, leaning further over the edge than Seamus'd care to try himself.

'Stand still,' he grumbled, 'unless you want to try it and find out.'


	9. 9: Neville

'Just sit still and you'll be fine,' Hermione advised, voice stiffer than usual as they made their way down to the grounds for their first Flying lesson. 'They wouldn't let us do it if it was _too_ dangerous.'

Neville nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure she was right. Things that weren't at all dangerous for most people weren't necessarily safe for him. One of his cousins had once told him he could trip over a crack in the pavement that hadn't happened yet. He didn't disagree. Besides, Hermione didn't seem too convinced of what she was saying herself. For saying that Hermione tended to think she knew best about everything – and in most cases actually _did_ know best – that wasn't very comforting.

It wasn't as though he could really ask anybody else for advice without being teased, either. There weren't many people he was comfortable enough to speak to uninvited yet, and of those he couldn't think of many who hadn't spent at least five minutes telling everybody how good they were with a broomstick. Dean was muggle-born, but they'd both been listening to Seamus brag about his in-air experiences for what felt like hours. Dean himself seemed as calm and casual as ever, and that made Neville feel worse. He had a lot of pressure on him to be at least adequate at this.

Unfortunately, being adequate at things wasn't something Neville had developed a very good handle on yet.

'How high will we go, do you think?'

Hermione considered his question, though it was apparent from the moment she did so that it wasn't the kind of thing she enjoyed having to think about. 'Only a few feet up, I would think. The professor wouldn't be able to keep an eye on us otherwise.'

'You can break your neck from any height if you fall on it right; did you know?' Draco Malfoy drawled to Pansy Parkinson as they pushed past, wearing tell-tale smirks on their thin, pale faces.

'Don't listen to them,' said Hermione boldly. It led Neville to wonder how he'd ever thought she should have been a Ravenclaw; she was even braver than she was clever, or so it seemed. 'We're going to be fine.'

Neville bit his thumb, reaching into his pocket for the Remembrall. What would Gran say if she knew he was so frightened? She'd tell him he was a silly old thing and that he should listen to the professor's instructions instead of worrying so much that he couldn't concentrate on them. It was sensible advice, really, but it was easier thought than followed. As they stood with the rest of their class in the grounds, choosing a broomstick to stand beside, he could feel his heart beating so hard that it felt as though it'd leap up into his mouth and into the air before he'd even left the ground.


	10. 10: the Marauders

He could see it in James's face when they landed. It was in Sirius's, too, but there was something in James's face that was different. He looked exhilarated, like he'd just taken his first breath; like he'd found something about Hogwarts that he liked even more than trouble and teasing Lily Evans. Sirius grinned and shoved him in the shoulder, which was a shame – it faded, and soon he was just himself again.

'Alright, mate. Try not to get too excited. We don't want any accidents.'

James grinned sheepishly. 'Bloody brilliant, though.'

Peter's facial expression was a little more wobbly, and Remus wasn't entirely sure he believed the smile that had been plastered across it. Peter always had a pasty complexion, but he looked particularly unwell at the moment. 'Yeah,' he agreed.

'Remus?' James prompted, keen to see if anybody else had caught the bug quite like he had. 'What do you reckon?'

He shrugged, smiling more for James's benefit than out of sincerity. 'It's alright.'

Sirius snickered, bumping into his shoulder. 'Just alright? Nutter.'

'Seen Snape?'

At Peter's question, they all turned to take a glance at the young Slytherin. If poor Pete had looked a little unsteady, Snape looked practically purple. He was still gripping the broomstick hard, knuckles white and rigid around the light wooden handle. Remus's first instinct was to feel sorry for him, and he wasn't the only one. James's mood looked a little spoiled by seeing someone else react so badly to the experience.

Sirius, on the other hand, couldn't restrain a slight smirk. 'Somebody's never heard of 'don't look down'.'

Lily tutted as she pushed past them, throwing Sirius a despairing look. 'Hush up, you.'

Severus looked up as he heard her, throwing a glance at the four boys that turned into something hotter and less neutral. 'I'm fine,' he said, clearly for Lily's benefit even if he didn't take his eyes off Sirius's face.

'Come on,' James said, grabbing Sirius's elbow and steering him off. Even this early on in their friendship, he could tell when the boiling point was coming. Remus could too. He watched Sirius's lip curl a little as he turned away, irritated that anybody had looked at him like that; that anybody would dare to overreact to something they hadn't even heard him say.

'Prick,' he said quietly, finally turning away as James directed. Peter took his other side, though it was unnecessary – the moment had passed. They made their way back towards the castle as Sirius began to speak again. 'Touchy, looking at me like that.'

'He's friends with Evans,' James pointed out. 'He's bound to be a bit oversensitive.'

'He just had a shock; that's all,' said Remus, lagging behind a little. 'I'm sure he's alright, really.'

Sirius snorted, reaching to pull him forward and wrap his arm around his shoulders to grab him closer. 'You're too good to other people. That's your problem.'

'Am I too good to you?'

He snickered, letting him go and apparently in far better spirits as they reached the doors of the castle. 'Yeah,' he said, 'but you could always be better. Do my homework?'

'No, thank you,' he said breezily, pleased that they were at the point of being this friendly with one another already.

'If you're sure. The offer's always open.'

'You're very kind,' he said patiently, a thin smile working its way onto his face quite unwarranted. Shame that in a week's time, he might be wearing scars far thicker – but it was a bigger shame that Sirius probably wouldn't stick around to try to make him smile anyway if he found out.


	11. 11: Pansy Parkinson

'He'd better be expelled. Probably will be. Even Potter has to do as he's told.'

Pansy smirked as she kept pace alongside Draco, not so much agreeing with what he'd said as feeling pleased that he was thinking it. The professors definitely did have a special place in their silly old hearts for Potter. Yes, he had done the wizarding world a service, but surely accidentally _not_ dying as a baby didn't qualify you to break the rules without repercussions in your school years? 'If he can't learn to stop misbehaving when he might be caught then frankly, he deserves it.'

Daphne grinned and linked her arm, nodding. 'Not like Draco – flying around _before_ Professor McGonagall caught sight of you.'

'I know when to stop,' he agreed. 'It isn't a hard thing to learn if you have half a brain.'

Pansy's eyes flicked over to Crabbe and Goyle, who she supposed must only have half a brain between them. If she had to fault Draco for something – and given her nature, she most certainly _did_ feel she had to fault him for something – it would be his choice in companions. It was a good tactical move, yes, but what about after Hogwarts? What about conversation? Blaise Zabini wasn't too bad, she supposed, but he was quiet. Crabbe and Goyle were lumps of flesh more than anything. She didn't know how they'd even managed to be sorted into Slytherin, really. They didn't have the intelligence to be cunning, and she wasn't entirely sure either of them could even spell ambition, let alone feel it. Wizarding parents alone did not a Slytherin make.

Draco noticed her looking, casting an amused smile into the horizon as he lowered his voice. 'Yes; well. It isn't hard to obey, either.'

'I suppose not.'

'Do you think if we told Professor Snape about Potter he might be able to help expel him?' Daphne suggested uncertainly, but was only met with a few negative noises.

'I doubt it,' Draco said, 'unfortunately. But perhaps if I got my father on the case; got him to argue the line that Potter is disruptive and dangerous…?'

Goyle chuckled, finally listening in. 'Tell him he ruined our Flying lesson.'

'That's what I said,' Draco informed him with an unexpected air of patience in his voice. Maybe a few more weeks having to answer things like that would see him snapping a bit more. 'Disruptive.'

'He'll be expelled anyway,' Daphne reassured them all. 'We don't need to tell Snape, or Draco's father. Madam Hooch said we'd be out of Hogwarts if we tried anything. It's as simple as that.'

'Maybe,' interjected Blaise, drawing everybody's attention purely because of who it was that had spoken. It put something of an unexpected end to the conversation as they all fell silent, not sure where to go with the conversation now. Pansy might have said she'd forgotten that Blaise was even there, but it was difficult to forget about someone like him, even at this age. He was tall, thin and intense if not intimidating.

He'd be handsome in a few years' time, she thought – but she kept that thought to herself, and would for a while. She'd rather Draco anyway, and it'd put ideas into people's heads if she started after anybody else. Rumours spread so fast in their community. Good pureblood engagements had been called off for sillier things. No, they weren't engaged yet, but one day the chance might appear, and she doubted if a Malfoy would ever marry somebody who'd openly preferred somebody else. They had the pick of the crop, after all. All that money.

'I wonder what the Prophet'll say when it gets wind of Harry Potter being expelled this early in his first year,' Daphne said eventually, but Blaise's cynical one word had put sufficient doubt into their minds that nobody answered immediately. It took a few moments for Draco to re-convince himself and forge a suitably smooth reply.

'_The Boy Who Left_,' he suggested thinly, to a chorus of snorts from Crabbe and Goyle. He smirked, pleased with this reaction, and it suddenly occurred to Pansy that protection wasn't the only thing that he carried them around for. It was his ego, too – though why Draco Malfoy needed his ego stroking any further was quite beyond her.

'_Harry Today: Gone Tomorrow_?' someone suggested.

'_He Lived, He Flew, He Got Chucked Out_? Like _I came, I saw, I conquered_…'

'_Back to Godric's Hollow_.'

'_Up with Potter, Down with Potter_.'

Pansy smirked, squeezing Daphne's arm as the suggestions kept coming. She threw a pointed look at the miserable faces on the group of Gryffindors heading up to the castle. It looked almost like a funeral parade. 'Weasley looks heartbroken.'

'Probably thought he might actually be fed over summer if he got to stay with a friend,' Draco said, interrupting unexpectedly. 'Or maybe he just thinks he might have to befriend Longbottom instead now.'


	12. 12: Dean and Seamus

'If Harry gets chucked out then I'll have to be best friends with _Neville_.'

'Don't be an arse, Ron. You can hang around with us.'

'Definitely.'

Ron groaned and leaned back against the wall, still turning the whole thing over in his head half an hour later. 'It'll be my fault if he gets chucked out. I should've told him not to be an idiot.'

'Nah,' Seamus told him. 'Not at all.' He paused for a moment, desperate to point something else out but also aware that it could be seen as insensitive. He couldn't hold it in for very long, though. 'He was bloody good, though, wasn't he?'

'Yeah,' Dean agreed immediately, face splitting into a grin. 'Just the bit where he pulled it up at the end, like-'

'I thought he was going to smash his face in.'

'Me too,' Ron said guiltily. 'Bloody Malfoy. I'll smash _his_ face in,' he said, trying to convince everybody that he was capable of it. Unfortunately, he was largely unsuccessful. It wasn't that Ron didn't have the _drive_ to go and avenge Harry's unfair dismissal, if it happened – touch wood it didn't. It was simply that Malfoy had his goons, and Ron had… well. Long lanky limbs without much muscle on them. It'd be no contest. 'Do you reckon they'll let him off?'

'Mate,' Seamus said firmly. 'He's feckin' Harry Potter. They're not going to expel him for surviving where most people'd just die.'

Dean snorted, punching him in the arm even if he clearly saw the humour in it. 'Shut up, Seamus. They won't, though, Ron. He's right about that, at least.'

They fell quiet again for a few moments. They were friendly with one another, but not close enough that conversation could carry on freely without gaps like this. As it turned out, the gap served quite a good purpose. They'd all cooled off again by the time Ron spoke up again. 'Reckon Neville's alright?'

'They reckon that Madam Pomfrey can cure anything,' Seamus said wisely.

'Maybe not _anything_,' Dean added, fiddling with the knot of his tie, 'but he only landed a bit funny on his wrist. He'll be back tonight, probably.'

'Daft git,' Ron grumbled, as though Neville had fallen purposely to irritate him. 'I don't know how he managed it.'

'I think we should probably go and see him.'

'Why?'

Dean finished adjusting his clothes, looking up with a small smile to explain himself. 'Just seems nice. We're not busy.'

'Said it before and I'll say it again,' Seamus said, grinning at him and reaching to ruffle his hair again. 'You're too nice to other people for your own good, you soft sod.'


	13. 13: Neville

Neville's bed had never felt comfier, or his heart softer. His breath was still heavy and rough in his chest as he tried to gasp as much of it as possible into his lungs. Things like that shouldn't be kept in castles like this – not even if students were told not to go anywhere near it. Hermione was a clever witch, but she was still a first-year, and she'd managed to open that door and get them into the room with that… that _thing_. It shouldn't be possible. It was dangerous; it was horrible.

It was _brilliant_. This was the kind of life that Neville had been hoping for, supported by the big group of friends that he'd always wanted. This kind of thing was what his young years were made for. His Gran had always told him off for being shy and anxious. _Run while you still can_, she always said, _and scream while there's still air in your lungs_. He'd certainly done enough of that this evening – and to top of the day he'd had, too! He had none of the luck in the world, but at least it had worked out to be exciting for him.

He turned onto his side to ease the light nausea he was beginning to feel – natural reaction to fear, he guessed, but he'd be okay. This had happened before. Well – kind of. He'd never run into a three-headed dog before, but he'd definitely felt sick for no physical reason before, and this was the way he coped with it. Sometimes he wondered if this might not be why he'd been put into Gryffindor and not Hufflepuff. Even if he did get scared of things, he coped with them; he carried on and breathed through it and he was okay.

Maybe Harry and Ron would like him more after this, and maybe they wouldn't – but either way they'd gone on an adventure together, and it was really more than a poor young thing like Neville Longbottom could ever have hoped for.


	14. 14: Dean and Seamus

Halloween had always been something Seamus had looked forward to as a child, but it had never been as big a deal as this in his household – not that it could have been, of course. As he and Dean stood and stared at the great hall, marvelling at the transformation, he finally understood the wide smile on his mam's face whenever they mentioned what holidays were like at Hogwarts. Magical society was shaped by experiences like this. This was something that almost every witch or wizard in the United Kingdom had seen at some point in their lives, and that was a sobering thought.

'Unreal,' Seamus eventually judged.

'Cool,' Dean added, grinning and tugging on Seamus's sleeve as he eventually started towards Gryffindor table. 'Come on; we're probably in someone's way. It'll still be there when we sit down.'

'Shut up,' Seamus said, trying to look far grumpier than he really was. It only made Dean laugh, which wasn't such a bad outcome anyway. The closer they were, the better – Neville was hovering right on the edge of both of the main friendships in their dormitory, and Seamus didn't want an opening coming up where his place had once been.

That being said, he didn't think there was any danger of it happening. He and Dean had steered carefully away from the subject of what they thought of each other since the last conversation they'd had on the matter. That was girly talk anyway.

'Reckon I could carve a decent pumpkin,' Dean thought aloud, settling into his seat and pouring both him and Seamus a cup of pumpkin juice.

'Yeah?' Seamus said, distracted. 'What would you carve it into?'

After thinking for a few moments, probably just as distracted himself, he finally answered. 'Maybe a severed hand. See if I can charm it to wiggle its fingers and crawl along round the side of the pumpkin.'

'Don't get ahead of yourself now,' Seamus teased, grinning at him broadly. 'We've only just got on to levitating charms today.'

'Well, _some_ of us have,' Dean said innocently, snickering as he was punched in the arm.

'Git.'

'_Some_ of us just set our feathers on fire…'

"Alright. _Alright_,' Seamus said, ruffling his hair playfully and settling back into his chair. 'You've made your point, you bully.'

'D'you reckon they'll do anything weird? For Halloween?'

'Maybe,' he said, thinking about what it might be. 'Maybe not. They put a lot of work into how it looks. I dunno if they'd bother to think about what happens. We could all tell stories tonight, though. All five of us.'

Dean smiled, drinking down the rest of his pumpkin juice. 'That'd be fun.'

'Five sickles Neville has nightmares.'

He gave a soft laugh, shaking his head and pushing his cup away from him. 'You're cruel. Keep your sickles.'

'Then you agree?'

'Didn't say I didn't.'

They looked up at one another to smirk, both quite aware that if anybody _really_ took the piss out of Neville they'd be on them like a shot. It wasn't that they liked him, per se. He was a bit of a damp squib, without actually _being_ a squib, and not exactly beneficial to any first-year's reputation as a friend. Seamus wouldn't like to admit aloud that he thought popularity mattered enough to think about that, but he did. Dean probably did too – even kind, cool Dean, who'd suggested they go and see him when he was still in the hospital wing for his flying incident. It was just the way things went, though. Maybe next year when things weren't so full of pressure. Maybe if he calmed down a bit and settled. Maybe if he got rid of that toad.

Either way, nobody was allowed to pick on him. Not some time in the future, and especially not now.


	15. 15: the Marauders

'Look, Jim – I can tell you now that _I_ will not be seen with you at this party if you're only going to throw a sheet over your head. Effort, mate. Effort.'

James grinned, shifting to his knees in front of his trunk. 'Alright, alright, but I _really_ haven't got anything, you know.'

'Then we'll make something. It isn't that hard. I bet Remus has a few good ideas.'

Remus smiled from the bed, where he was already ready for the party. In the spirit of trying to involve himself with things and get along with people, he'd powdered himself white and charmed his clothes the same. Apparently, Sirius was willing to consider this to be a much more acceptable way of dressing as a ghost for Halloween, and Peter's splattered-with-blood zombie hadn't come under scrutiny either. James, on the other hand, had been getting a piece of Sirius's mind for the past half an hour.

'Come on, then, Remus,' Sirius prompted. 'What d'you reckon?'

'Well…'

'Ah!' Sirius interrupted, clicking his fingers and pointing at James excitedly. 'Got it, got it. Get that shirt; yeah, that one. We'll make you a werewolf.'

James snorted, pulling out one of his shirts. 'Only if you promise to fix it again.'

'Jimbo,' Sirius promised, 'I will sew it by hand with pink and purple thread if it means you don't show me up with a rubbish costume.'

'And how are we going to… you know. Turn me into a wolf, exactly?'

They both turned to Remus, grinning expectantly, but his smile had grown a little tired. 'I don't know. Sorry. Peter?'

Peter's brow was furrowed. It was quite funny to think that he was using the same level of concentration now as he did in their Transfiguration classes, and also encouraging to know that somebody else cared as much about coming off well to his friends as he did. 'Maybe… er… d'you reckon if we pulled out a bit of your hair and asked Gideon or Fabian to duplicate it…?'

'If you come near my hair,' James warned immediately, 'I will destroy you.'

'Steady on, Fluffy,' Sirius said, grinning and advancing on him slowly. 'Won't hurt, I promise.'

'Don't touch my hair,' he warned again, already aiming an ineffective slap at Sirius's shoulder. 'Mate, I swear you will regret it.'

'Think I'm scared of you?'

'Final warning.'

'Bite me,' Sirius said, grinning from ear to ear, and leaped to pin him to Peter's bed, wrestling with him for a chance at tugging out a bit of his hair. 'Hold still!'

'You don't _understand _the level of punishment that will rain down on you if you-'

'Ow!'

'Well, don't pull my hair, then!'

'I know where you're ticklish, Potter.'

A few minutes of wrestling later, they were still at a stalemate. Panting and laughing – and, in Sirius's case, with a pair of devil horns sliding off his head – they regarded each other from opposites ends of the bed. Only his friends could end up like this; play-fighting and rough and tumble and still grinning at each other like something genuinely brilliant had happened. It didn't sweeten the bitter taste in Remus's mouth, though. He was still a little flushed, and a lot nauseous.

'Truce?' James asked carefully, tone firm enough that he couldn't be teased for saying it first.

'Alright,' Sirius agreed, standing off the bed to prove the point. 'Truce. Fair fight, and no winner.'

'What's the plan, then, if we've got no hair?' Peter asked, still pondering over another solution. He had been for the entire time they were fighting, but thankfully the other two were far too preoccupied to notice and tease him for being so slow. 'How are they going to know you're a werewolf?'

'I'll bite people; howl sometimes. Scratch behind my ears.'

'Chase your own backside?' Sirius volunteered.

'That's the one.'

Peter shrugged. 'Fair enough. Er… Sirius? Your face-paint's come off a bit.'

'What? No!'

He dashed back into the bathroom, examining the patch that had been wiped off in the struggle with James. Really, Remus thought, he should have known it would happen – of course, they weren't good enough to cast sticking charms or anything yet, but he could at least have avoided wiping his face against the bed-sheets. Peter's bed-sheets, no less – and yes, they were stained a little red.

Peter caught him looking and smiled lopsidedly. 'House-elves'll get it.'

'Yeah,' Remus agreed, smiling faintly. 'Listen, I feel a bit off all of a sudden. You all go down. I'm going to have a rest.'

'Aw, don't waste your costume,' Peter said desperately. 'You spent ages. You can sit on one of the chairs. Just sit still. We'll all sit and talk.'

'Thanks,' he said quietly, 'but I think that kind of defeats the party aspect. I'd better just rest. It's alright – there's always next year.'

'Suppose,' Peter said, a little deflated. Remus couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him – already, they'd divided somewhat into two sets of two. It was clear who the first pair was, and how close they were. It wasn't that they didn't like Peter and Remus a lot too, but they had a tendency to rush ahead and keep up with each other but nobody else. If Remus had gone, it would have been okay – Peter could have talked rather than listened and hummed, with the occasional opinion slipped in between sentences. As it was, he wasn't going to have nearly as good a night as he could have had.

'Sorry,' Remus said, and though it was just one word, he thought Peter might understand that he knew all that. Maybe it'd help to know that he'd thought about it, and that he did genuinely feel bad about it.

Thankfully, Peter smiled. 'You're alright. Get better soon.'

'I'll try.'

He pulled his feet up onto his bed and drew the curtains carefully, albeit with shaking hands. He'd lied to Peter, yes – he didn't feel ill at all, and it was probably cruel to stay away because of it. The problem was that in a day or two he _would_ be feeling ill; very ill, in fact, as he was pulled ever nearer to the full moon. What exactly was he going to say?

'Remus?' Sirius had poked his head through the curtains – typically tactless, thoughtless and unfairly likeable – to flick his eyes over him, wearing a look composed half of concern and half of uncertainty. 'You alright?'

'No,' he said quietly. 'Not really. I'm going to stay here.'

'You sure? We'll all just sit down there quiet, like…'

'I'll come down if I feel better later. You three go and enjoy Halloween, honestly.'

'Alright. Well. Give us a shout if you need anything.'

Remus smiled softly, though his bones all ached along with his heart at the thought that if only he were normal, this would all be genuine; that concern would all be real. 'I think it'd have to be a very loud shout for you to hear me.'

'Yeah, well. We'll be listening.'

'Feel better, Lupin,' James called from just beyond the curtain, leaning down to wave at him as Sirius pulled his head out to leave him be. 'Come and see us in a bit.'

'Alright.'

If only, if only.


	16. 16: Dean and Seamus

Everybody was excited by proxy, almost, as though Harry was radiating out the good feelings and keeping all the nerves for himself. He looked awful, actually. Seamus had said as much this morning when he'd first caught sight of him, and then felt really unfair afterwards. It was a lot of pressure to put on one first-year – not just to be on the Quidditch team itself, but also to be its Seeker. Trying to shave off his previous mistake, Seamus had tried to make friendly conversation at breakfast, and had ended up managing to tell Harry how it was the Seekers who got hurt most frequently.

'You're dreadful, you know,' Dean said. 'Telling him that.'

'Didn't mean to, did I?' he grumbled, holding the other half of Dean's banner as they headed out to the pitch. They'd be early, but they needed really good seats. It was the first game of the season, and all the boys in their dorm were going to be sitting together to watch it, joined by that Hermione Granger. Seamus wasn't sure when exactly Harry and Ron's attitude towards her had changed, or why – all he knew was that his certainly hadn't. As ever, of course, Dean had managed to be a good person about it.

'And you're just as bad for looking at her like that! Leave her be; she's alright.'

'She's irritating,' Seamus insisted, nudging him with his elbow.

'She's not even talking to you,' Dean reminded him gently. 'Just be nice to her. I'm not asking you to kiss her or anything.'

Seamus pulled a face. 'Yeah. Don't.'

Dean snickered, finally nudging him back as though he'd forgotten to return the gesture the first time. 'Shut up and be friendly. Just 'cos I like you even when you're grouchy doesn't mean everybody else does.'

'Who says I want her to like me?'

'Ron and Harry like her, and we like Ron and Harry. That means we have to _kind_ of get on with their friends, too – you _know_ it'll start arguments…'

'I like her too,' Neville said quietly, but Seamus was too busy groaning at Dean to hear.

'You're too _nice_. Why did I make friends with someone so nice?'

'You'll be nice by second year if I have things my way.'

'Never,' Seamus insisted, but at least he was grinning instead of moaning. By the time they'd reached the stands and found enough seats all bunched together, including space to accommodate the groundskeeper, Hagrid, who was massive enough to be cool by default, he was in much higher sprits.

'Do you really think we stand a chance?' said Dean, looking out across the whole pitch as they tried carefully to ignore the Slytherins talking far too loudly behind them about how Harry was probably going to fall and break every bone in his body. 'I mean… I know we're meant to say we do, but…'

Seamus nodded firmly. 'We're going to win. Remember how Harry flew for Neville's thing.'

'Remember how Potter _fell_,' insisted Pansy Parkinson from a few rows back, but they both ignored her.

'I suppose so.'

'He better be good, anyway, or it'd be a waste of your banner.'

Dean grinned, smoothing down the fabric that they'd rested on both their knees for now. He'd drawn a lion on it, and Seamus had been surprised to see how talented an artist he was. Though he had that air of capability about him in general, he'd never seemed very creative – it had just come as a bit of a surprise. 'You like it, then?'

'Yeah, it's great. Could've done with some snakes chopped in half on it, but you did alright.'


	17. 17: the Four Founders

'Well, you could have taken more care with the snakes.'

Godric grinned and stood behind Salazar, who he'd just forced to sit down and examine the supposed masterpiece he had just spent hours painting. Godric was not by any means an accomplished artist, but sometimes he tried to be – this rendition of Salazar wasn't at all recognisable, and Rowena suspected that burning it would probably be the kindest thing to do with it. Far from being cruel to his best friend, however, Salazar had ignored the fact that the technique of the parts that Godric had actually _tried_ at was appalling, and had instead focused on the part he'd done as a joke.

'I thought they were quite accurate.'

These snakes were, essentially, wiggly lines. Some were draped over Salazar's shoulders, and one curled around what Rowena supposed must be his hand. There had clearly been no effort made with them whatsoever, save for choosing to paint them in green; but really, that was the only colour they could have been painted in. Salazar's emblem was the snake, and his family colour was green.

Helga smiled and traced one with her fingertip. 'Poor Godric. I think they're lovely.'

'You are most kind,' he told her gravely, inclining his head at her. 'But nobody's commented on the figure yet. It's awful, isn't it?'

Now that he'd said it aloud, they felt as though they'd been given permission to agree. 'Oh, absolutely.'

'Diabolical.'

'Endlessly insulting,' confirmed Salazar, smirking slightly and patting his friend roughly on the back. 'I flatter myself I'm slightly more palatable to look at than this.'

'Quite,' Rowena agreed, receiving a quick, telling glance from Salazar in response.

'I apologise. One day I'll do you justice, perhaps.'

'Perhaps.'

'Perhaps,' Rowena added, lifting it from the table to dispose of it, 'we'd all better keep to things that we're good at rather than trying to branch out. I think you're quite accomplished enough already to be satisfied with your lot, Godric. There's no need at all to try to be more impressive.'

'I'm unmarried,' Godric reasoned playfully, looking back at her with an unguardedly flirtatious lilt to his expression. 'It's a man's prerogative to be as attractive as he can be.'

'Creating unflattering portraits of your peers is not the way to go about it,' said Helga, but it was only a tease. Helga was too kind to be so blunt and actually mean it. 'I suggest learning to dance.'

'He can't,' Salazar said, standing to join him with a composed smirk. 'Our friend is regrettably uncoordinated without a wand in his hand – and besides, it's far too subtle an art for him to perfect.'

'I'm not unsubtle,' Godric insisted, but it was useless to try and convince him. They'd all grown up together, and it was impossible to know Godric for more than five minutes without realising that he did things in fell swoops rather than with carefully thought-out gestures. Games like chess confounded him – why, he always asked, would an army move only one branch of itself at a time?

Regardless, Rowena was beginning to sense the situation could turn a little cruel. Judging by the look on Helga's face, she agreed. Salazar was less sensitive to this sort of change in the wind, but he was easily led – she placed her hand gently on his arm and sure enough, he stood off. Godric was a little overconfident sometimes, yes, but it didn't mean that it was good or friendly of them to be too brutally honest with him about the state of his own character.

'Of course not,' she told him. 'It was only in jest.'

Something in Godric's proud and handsome face seemed to reject this, but he knew better than to question whether or not Rowena was telling the truth. The four of them didn't argue often – and Helga _never _did – but when the arguments welled up, they could be quite unpleasant. Sometimes it was better just to nod and agree, and Godric had, thank Merlin, recognised that now was the time. 'I know that.'

'The sun is still out,' Helga reminded them. 'I'm sure a walk to the lake would be very pleasant.'

Glad of the excuse to change the subject, Godric nodded and stretched, stepping further away from the table. 'Merlin, yes. We don't any of us get out of this damned castle of father's enough. It's smothering.'

Salazar inclined his head slightly in agreement, and Rowena certainly wasn't about to be the one to spoil this chance at postponing Godric's tantrum. 'Yes; a walk sounds nice. Shall, we, then?'

She kept alongside Salazar as they headed out of the great hall and into the grounds. Godric and Helga walked together, too, though really there was plenty of room for them all to walk in a line together. This castle of Godric's father's was one of the largest they'd stayed in – they were all quite rich enough to be able to enjoy a few free years in their youth before they settled down to do something useful. They had chosen to spend those years together, travelling the breadth of Britain and seeing as much of it as they could. The Scottish highlands were particularly beautiful, and this slice of it was no exception. The grounds included not only a large, untamed forest and endless rolling pastures of healthy green grass, but also the lake that Helga had suggested walking to. If you stood at the right point on the bank of this lake, you could even catch a view of some mountains, miles and miles away.

'You're very quick to manage him,' Salazar noted quietly as they headed outside, setting a slow pace so that they could separate themselves more from the other two, who were a few steps ahead. Rowena wasn't sure what he meant, and apparently her silence was enough to say so; he continued on to explain a few moments later. 'You don't seem to want him to be upset by things, or even aware of them.'

'I care about him,' she said, deliberately keeping her gaze set across the surface of the water. She knew about Salazar's feelings for her, even if they were only very slight the last time she'd thought about it. She knew it would torment him to be left with such a vague comment, and as such it took her a few moments to expand on it, enjoying noticing the light changes in him as he waited in discomfort. 'As we all do.'

It had been enough of a pause to unsettle him; rather, it had been enough of a pause to unsettle him to an extent that he was willing to break character and press her on the matter. 'And no more?'

'No more,' she confirmed, feeling it'd be unfair to tease it out any further. Watching him wait was amusing, but seeing him distressed was not. 'It upsets the balance when he's angry at us, or something like it. I prefer things to be calm.'

'Of course,' he agreed.

'Would it concern you?'

'To see him rattled?'

'Had I answered 'yes' instead.'

He sighed quietly. Evidently, and perhaps understandably, he had hoped to avoid this question. He remained silent for a few more moments, thinking of how best to carry on, until eventually he couldn't delay it any further. His tone was notably less smooth and clever than usual, and she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed that his composure was not the permanent fixture she'd imagined it to be. 'Yes. It would.'

'Have you anything to confess?'

She met Salazar's eyes carefully, hardly expecting him to want to continue to speak to her, let alone to answer her question. He was a very closed off person, and preferred to keep his cards to his chest. On this occasion, apparently, he was willing to bend the rules, or at least felt obliged to; he sighed again, apparently with the weight of all the world on his shoulders, and nodded slightly. 'I think you know what it is that I have to confess.'

It may not have been much, but it really was more than she had been expecting. 'I think so.'

'Is it in vain?'

'No,' she said quietly, 'not entirely. I simply think there are certain camps who expect that I'll marry Godric.'

'By which you mean Godric himself,' Salazar said wryly.

She laughed, knowing it would be dishonest to disagree. 'Alright, yes,' she said softly. 'And his father seems quite set on it too. It's not the way I'm inclined, though. It's not the way I'd prefer things to be.'

He gave her a pointed glance, clearly expecting something else in return for his earlier honesty, but ended up caving in. 'Oh, alright; if you refuse to say anything clear, then I suggest we leave the conversation there. I understand.'

'Things might be different in a few years,' Rowena reminded him, fighting the urge to take his arm and hold onto it tightly. Goodness; it wasn't even all that cold. 'Things might have changed.'

'Perhaps,' he agreed silkily, and as they caught up to Godric and Helga, both wearing blissfully unaware smiles, that was the last word to be said on the matter. It was probably for the best.


	18. 18: Neville

He hadn't been doing anything wrong, really – other than being himself, of course, but apparently that was the worst crime he could commit in Draco Malfoy's eyes. He wouldn't say that he was a particularly twitchy or socially sensitive person generally. He was a little shy, yes, but the thought of interacting with people didn't cripple him or anything. Today, though, he genuinely felt that he'd like the castle to suck him into the walls as he was forced to bounce all the way back to the common room.

It had been weeks since Gryffindor had won the Quidditch match, and Neville wasn't even on the team – luckily for the team, of course. Even so, he couldn't help but wonder if that might not be something Draco was still quite bitter about. This attack had come rather out of the blue, after all. Even somebody naturally unpleasant like Malfoy didn't launch attacks on other students for no reason. This kind of thing could get him into serious trouble, after all. That being said, Neville only half-wished it _would_ get Malfoy into trouble. He didn't care to be the subject of even more hatred from the boy, and he just might be if Draco was forced to serve a detention for getting caught hexing him. It wouldn't be his fault, but Slytherins liked to blame other people, generally – or so it seemed to Neville.

Muttering the password to the Fat Lady, he tried his best to enter the common room with some sort of grace and composure, but clearly nobody was having any of it. The entire room fell about laughing, with only Hermione kindly coming over to help him break the curse. Really, he still wasn't sure what it was that people had a problem with her for. Seamus couldn't stand her. At least Dean had cooled off his frustration with her a little now, and clearly Ron and Harry had changed their minds about her, but the other girls in the year didn't seem to like her much either.

'Letting him do that to you, Neville?' Seamus said as he finally sat down beside him and Dean, shaking his freckled, sandy-haired head with disappointment. 'You're letting the side down, boyo. You're going to have to kick his arse instead of letting him win next time.'

'We weren't fighting,' Neville insisted, but Dean patted his shoulder.

'Don't worry about it, mate.'

'It was awful.'

'You're alright, Nev, honestly. It just looked a bit funny. That was all.'

'Yeah,' Neville agreed quietly. Something told him that this wasn't the good kind of funny, either – not a Seamus kind of funny, or a Ron kind of funny. This was just plain poor-old-bad-luck-Neville funny. At and not with, his Gran might say. Frankly, even if he was telling jokes and doing it on purpose, he didn't think he ever wanted to hear the sound of people laughing at him ever again.


	19. 19: the Marauders

'You know something, Jimbo?'

'Don't call me that.'

James ruffled his hair playfully, already good at managing to make a complete mess of Sirius's head in the frantic few seconds he could manage to keep his hand there. It wasn't that Sirius was particularly vain, but he did like to look at least a little groomed, and as such he was pretty defensive of what you did to his hair.

'Oy! Leave it out!'

'So call me James.'

'Jim,' Sirius insisted, settling back down in his armchair with a defiant smirk. James was too tired to argue it, and Sirius had already worked out that it was possible to take advantage of that. It wasn't a battle worth fighting. 'What I was going to say is that I think the best sound I've ever heard is the sound of people laughing at something we did.'

James grinned, happy to momentarily forget about the nickname he so hated. 'Yeah, maybe.'

'Applause could be good,' Peter contributed, but it was to a dead conversation. Sirius and James were already off daydreaming about how well their prank had gone in the lesson today, and how encouraging the reaction they'd received had been. It was only a few long moments later that they chose to reply, if you could call it that. It wasn't really with anything to do with what Peter had said, after all.

'See the look on Snape's face?'

'He's a sour bastard,' Sirius said, pulling some chocolate out of his pocket and breaking a square off before throwing it around to share – to James first, of course, who then passed it on. 'I swear to Merlin he's got it in for us after that Flying thing.'

'What, because we saw him look even paler than he usually is?'

Peter snorted, fumbling to catch the chocolate and snap a bit off for himself before passing it on to Remus. 'He's just weird. I've decided to ignore him.'

'No, but he could be such good _fun_,' Sirius insisted. 'If he keeps up being a grumpy arse and spoiling our jokes with his bad moods, then he might have to become the subject of a few instead. Keep him on his toes.'

'Oh, don't be cruel,' Remus insisted, but he was met with such a reproachful look that he decided that, in future, saying anything along those lines would have to go through a rigorous thought process before it was actually permitted to come from his mouth. 'I just think he had a bad reaction when he thought we were laughing at him. If you just told him we weren't…'

'Yeah, but what if we were?' Sirius shot back. 'It _was_ funny – least, _I_ thought it was.'

'Pretty funny,' James agreed, but mainly because it was becoming a habit for him to agree with everything Sirius had to say – and vice versa. 'Anybody that holds a grudge that long probably deserves what's coming to them, I'd say. Besides, his hair personally offends me.'

'And what exactly does Severus Snape's hair have to do with your life, Potter?'

'It makes me feel unclean, Evans,' he said, turning with a very serious facial expression to redheaded Lily as she stood at the back of his seat, arms folded and wearing her usual look of contempt. 'Like I'll never smell nice again.'

'God forbid that caring about something other than your appearance be contagious,' she said. 'Look. Why can't you just leave him be? Yes, I heard what you were saying, and _no_, I wasn't eavesdropping, Black. You just have a very loud indoor voice. He's really not done anything to you.'

'He looked at me funny,' Sirius said dryly, slipping his chocolate back into his pocket. 'Listen. Can't you follow your own advice and take your freckled face elsewhere? We're busy plotting to set a few Slytherins we don't like on fire.'

'Gryffindors don't like bullies,' Lily warned them, stepping away. 'Or they _shouldn't_.'

James raised his eyebrows as she walked away, whistling quietly. It seemed a cliché reaction to Remus, but then again a lot of James's mannerisms seemed to originate from muggle television, so what else ought he to expect? 'Merlin. Bee up her bonnet or what?'

'It's gingers,' Peter said faintly. 'They're just angry, angry people.'


	20. 20: Albus and Gellert

'You're not very hot-headed,' Gellert remarked once, only a few weeks after they'd first met. He'd said it with such a curious smile that Albus couldn't help but return it, glancing back at him with a confused but fond expression over the top of his parchment.

'No,' he agreed. 'I'm not at all.'

Gellert hummed quietly, looking away again and returning to his notes. He was so fascinatingly beautiful that it was almost unfair. His blonde hair fell in loose waves down to his chin in a golden colour Albus had previously only caught sight of in picture books, and he owned the most astonishing and rather feline green eyes. He worried somewhat about how poor Gellert would fare in the sunlight, too – his complexion was so milky that it seemed there was no way it could do anything but blister and burn.

It really was a wonderful face; so much so that Albus believed he had it committed to memory, down to every last blemish and freckle. Of course, this attention to detail was unreciprocated.

'I only say so because of your hair. Don't they say redheads have quick tempers?'

Strange that Albus should have been thinking about it, but really, this was the first time he'd encountered any evidence that Gellert had even looked once at him. 'They do,' he agreed. 'I'd say my hair is more auburn than red, though. Perhaps that's it.'

'Perhaps.' He smiled slyly, turning to cast a look at the candle they'd set burning on the other side of the room. Well, they'd closed the blinds, and they had to see somehow. The light hit his face so perfectly. That being said, Albus doubted if he could find a way to light or angle Gellert's face that he wouldn't like. He liked what was behind it too, it ought to be noted. He was sharp and entertaining; wicked, in many ways, to the extent that sometimes Albus felt a little cruel to the world for laughing at his jokes. He was very intelligent, too, though. Albus had met a good many people who were witty enough to pass as clever, but lacked the substance beneath. You could talk to Gellert about anything and you'd find a well-structured argument there.

Apparently, though, he'd been daydreaming too long.

'Albus?'

'I'm sorry. I wasn't listening.'

Gellert gave him a wry smile, standing from his desk and coming away from the window with a short stretch. 'I suggested taking a walk. It seems a shame to waste the weather.'

'Absolutely. Let's go.' Ignoring a pointed look from Aberforth, he took two bottles of butterbeer and some biscuits for the walk. He didn't even bother to look outside as he headed to meet his friend at the door. 'All ready.'

'Quite.'

Gellert was wearing an unusual smirk, though; the kind that suggested something was going on beyond Albus's comprehension. He found out what it was soon enough as Gellert pushed the door open onto a street pouring with rain. It wasn't floods of it, but enough that most ordinary people would consider going out for a stroll in it a sign of madness.

'Oh.'

'Yes.'

He peered out again into the grey, wondering if this was some sort of trick. Probably, it was – probably, Gellert was pleased to find that Albus was willing to agree with his suggestions without checking to see if they were sensible ones. If that was true then Albus should, by rights, feel more embarrassed than this. As things stood, he was just a little bemused by it, glancing between the world outside and Gellert's cheeky face. 'Do you still want to go for a walk?'

'Why not?'

Not being the spontaneous type, it took Albus a few moments to understand, but inevitably he grinned and nodded. Gellert was never wrong. Gellert was the furthest from wrong that it was possible to be – even when he wasn't wholly _right_, either. 'Alright. Why not?'

The rain was lighter than it looked, though it still drenched them quite quickly. They hadn't made it to the end of the street before Albus's shirt was already soaked through, and then all too soon they were running. He saw Gellert picking up the pace, and followed him – faster, then off the street and into the fields. It was muddy, but Gellert didn't seem to care so Albus chose not to either. Maybe they were heading for the river. No; Gellert hated it there. It was more likely to be the tree. Sure enough, when they finally came to a stop they were beneath the big old oak out the back of the houses.

'Grief. Can I have my butterbeer now?' he asked, wearing the same winning expression as always; the same broad grin that meant either 'trouble is coming' or 'trouble has occurred'.

Albus was desperate to kiss those lips, but instead he contented himself to toss over one of the bottles and open the other. This was unusually frivolous for Gellert, spontaneous as he was, and he doubted very much if a gesture like that fantasy kiss would be well-received. Besides, they had bigger fish to fry than Albus's tumbling emotions, and it'd be ever so difficult to work on their plans together with a broken heart.

'It's not so awful out here, is it?'

'Not at all,' said Albus, and forced himself to look across the horizon instead. It was easier that way.


	21. 21: Pansy Parkinson

Pansy would never have believed that there could come a time when she didn't hate Harry Potter, and still wouldn't, but right now she was fairly close to at least being more amused by him than she was irritated by him. Recently, though, she almost wanted to give him a personal round of applause – him, Granger _and_ Longbottom. In all, they'd lost one hundred and fifty house points for Gryffindor. It was like they were trying to force their house to lose the cup.

Naturally, Draco had gotten into trouble too, but the Slytherins tended not to mind – if it hadn't been for him, then the other three wouldn't have been caught. It was underhanded, but cunning was part of the Slytherin way. Besides, Draco wasn't allowing the thought of being pushed out by his peers to affect him. He was simply acting the same as always. Potter and his friends were mooching around with their heads down trying not to attract attention; really, they were bringing it on themselves for being so pathetic.

'Can't believe I still have to serve this detention,' Draco admitted on the morning he received the note telling him so. 'It's ridiculous. I ought to tell father, but he'd only tell me to keep my head down. It isn't prudent to publicly attempt to spoil people's views of Harry Potter. He's always said that.'

Pansy nodded, finding that to be very true. 'Your father's right, I think.'

'Yes,' Draco agreed absently, 'but it's annoying to have to serve this detention anyway. They'd better not put me with Longbottom or I swear I won't be held accountable for my actions.'

She smirked lightly, smoothing a thread from the shoulder of his jumper. 'You'd be doing us all a favour. _Another_ favour.'

'A bloody annoying one,' he grumbled, glancing away to watch Crabbe and Goyle interrogating Daphne about her Herbology homework. As much as nobody in Slytherin was much interested in Vince or Greg, it was generally regarded as a collective duty of theirs to make sure they both passed their first year. It'd be poor effort to leave them behind – unless working to keep them up started impacting their own studies, of course. Then it'd be back to 'every wizard for himself'. Even so, that entire unspoken duty just went to show how Slytherin house was not as solitary and unpleasant as it was painted. Gryffindors weren't the only ones capable of moving as a pack.

'It'll be over in a few hours,' she reminded him after a pause, considering it. 'You'll spend a few wasted hours doing it and then it'll all be done with, except Gryffindor will still be in last place.'

'I suppose so,' he agreed, significantly cheered up by that, even if he still didn't smile. Draco tended not to, unless you counted smirking. She wasn't sure if that was something he'd learned from his father, but it seemed likely. She'd never seen the eldest Malfoy smile properly either, and she'd caught sight of him at several pureblood events over the years. 'Are you sure you don't want to serve it for me?'

'Positive,' Pansy said smoothly, but exchanged a look with him that passed on – or hopefully did, at least – an inch of sympathy and a whole cupful of amusement. 'Do give Longbottom hell, won't you? I don't feel he's had as much of it as Potter has, and that's just not at all fair.'


	22. 22: the Marauders

'Evans. Evans, Evans…'

For all of James's desperate attempts to placate her, Lily still looked absolutely furious. Ignoring the defensive gestures he was making to try and get her to stay back – again, learned from muggle television shows; perhaps a crime drama – she advanced forward, hands on her hips. Even her hair seemed aggressive, falling forward from behind her ears like it couldn't wait to get near him either. 'I told you, Potter.'

'Look, it was-'

'I _told_ you.'

'Ease off, Ginger,' tried Sirius, but the look she gave him was filled with enough poison that even he was silenced and fell back grumpily against the sofa, throwing a look at James that wasn't at all apologetic so much as 'well, I tried – nice to have known you'.

'He's never done anything to you.'

'He has now!'

'Yes, and I'm not surprised! What on earth did you think you were doing? Didn't you think of what the school might think of you behaving like that? About the rest of us, who've worked so hard all year to earn those house points?'

James pouted, looking off in the other direction to try and catch someone else's gaze in the hopes he could earn himself another ally. Even four against one wasn't enough when the one was Lily Evans. Unfortunately, no-one dared intervene. Thankfully, nobody cared enough about Severus Snape or fifty house points to hate them for getting caught doing their prank, but she was enough of an adversary that this seemed a very small mercy indeed. 'It was just a laugh.'

'Professor McGonagall didn't seem to think it was very funny.'

'Yeah? Well, she wouldn't,' Sirius bit back sharply. For once in his life, he was ignored – Lily seemed to recognise James as the leader of the four of them, and Remus wasn't inclined to disagree with that. Sirius and James were equals, and saw each other as such; in fact, some people might say that Sirius was the more commanding of the two, especially given the amount of charm he already had stored up in his back pocket. The point was, though, that James had something respectable in him. He had a restraint that Sirius lacked. People were intimidated by Sirius, but Potter wasn't a threat. Potter was powerful but benevolent.

Unfortunately, Lily didn't see him that way. 'You're a bully.'

'I'm not!'

'Yes, you are,' she insisted, pointing at him firmly. If she'd been a little closer, she might have actually prodded him in the chest, but thankfully the argument had remained strictly verbal so far. Remus wasn't sure he'd like to intervene in an actual fight. That being said, it'd probably be Sirius's job to do that. 'Picking on someone who's on their own is bullying.'

'Clearly he's not on his own if he has you to fight his battles for him,' Sirius drawled, and for a moment both Lily and James stopped to look at him, largely because he was right. It was one of the more sensible things Remus had heard him say this year. That probably didn't say very good things about Sirius's studies, but it was true. Having finally been granted a few seconds to speak in, Sirius pressed on. 'Anyway, it's none of your business what we do. You're not his keeper, and you're not ours either.'

'Does Black speak for you all the time, or just when you're finding it hard to answer to your actions?' Lily shot back to James, but he shook his head.

'Look, he's right. Bugger off and stick your nose in elsewhere.'

Turning hot pink, Lily clenched her fists. One opened and closed by her pocket, and Remus wondered if she might not be going for her wand. Peter seemed to have the same thought as his hand closed around his own wand, but Remus touched his arm – _no_. If it got like that it'd be so awful. They could recover from this, but not from a duel.

'Just leave other people alone,' she insisted again, heading off to sit back with Marlene and Mary.

Sirius looked murderous. 'I swear to Merlin, if you could hit a girl…'

'I know,' James agreed absently, looking down at the table. 'I know. Let's just go upstairs, alright? I'm bored of the whole thing.'

'She terrifies me,' Peter admitted, standing first and folding his arms tightly around his middle. 'I don't know how you argue with her.'

'She's got it coming. That's how,' Sirius insisted. Remus attracted his attention with a sigh, so he looked at him indignantly. 'What?'

'Nothing, Sirius. I just prefer it when we're all calm.'

'You're always calm, aren't you, Remus?'

'Often, yes.'

'I reckon that's why you're ill so often,' Sirius said, leading them off towards the staircase and deliberately avoiding looking at Lily and her friends. 'You keep it all in. It's not healthy.'

'Is that so?' said Remus, perfectly happy to endure one of Sirius's mad theories if it meant that they'd be off the subject of Lily Evans and her ardent defence of Severus Snape. Far from avoiding looking at the section of the room that she and her friends were sitting in, Remus actively chose to glance over as Sirius continued on. He met Lily's eyes for a few brief moments, trying to convey some sort of apology, but even when he looked away he was still getting the same look from her as the first moment he caught her gaze. She was disappointed.


	23. 23: Dean, Seamus and Neville

'Bloody hell, Neville. I'm not half disappointed in you,' Seamus said tiredly, heading over in his dressing gown to try and help Dean find a counter-curse that would set Neville free. After the first time he'd been hexed by Malfoy, Seamus had assumed that the boy would be a bit better at dodging curses, but apparently it wasn't so. Here he was again in an even worse state, and this time it was in his own common room in the middle of the night.

'Oh, leave him be, Seamus,' Dean said softly, crouching down next to Neville's rigid form. 'He couldn't help it. They might have sneaked up on him or anything.'

'Might have,' Seamus scoffed, squinting as he tried to think of the incantation. 'What's the one we want?'

'Er…' Dean stood up again, glancing at him. 'Well. I was hoping you'd remember, actually.'

'Nothing from me, mate. Sorry.'

They stood for another few moments in silence before a thought occurred to Dean. 'Didn't Flitwick say something about _finishing_ a charm? Like… that's what it was; the word…'

'Finite?'

'Finite,' repeated Dean triumphantly, brandishing his wand at Neville. The first attempt didn't work, but the second was far more helpful. Neville sat bold upright, looking worried. For a few moments Seamus imagined he was probably just suffering from the aftereffects, and then he wondered whether Dean had managed a good thing here at all.

'Mate,' he said uncertainly. 'I don't think that's right.'

Soon enough, though, the truth became clear. 'Harry, Ron and Hermione are out,' Neville insisted. 'We're going to be in so much trouble if they get caught, but they just said it was really important.'

'Neville, it's alright,' Dean told him, holding out a hand to help him up. It took a few moments for him to accept it, frowning deeply and with a sea of worry lines crossing his forehead. 'It's fine.'

'I tried to stop them.'

'I _know_-'

'Wait,' Seamus blurted out, suddenly realising something. 'You mean they did this to you?'

'Hermione did,' Neville confirmed, brow still furrowed. It took a little force for him to make himself say her name.

'She's bloody terrifying.'

Normally, Dean might have laughed at this assessment of Seamus's – under the present circumstances he didn't feel capable of it. 'She can be. You did fine, Neville. Come and sit up by the fire, okay? We'll get you some water.'


	24. 24: Albus and Gellert

All Albus could see was Gellert and the sunlight on the surface of the water. All Gellert could see was the future.

'What's the first thing you think of about muggles, Albus?' He caught his gaze, pulling it up from the surface of the water to hold eye contact. 'Tell me. I want to know how it makes you feel to hide.'

'Unhealthy,' Albus said quietly. He had a great deal of experience with hiding. He had spent a great deal of time analysing how it felt, and analysing whether or not it would be worth stepping out from the shadows to face the music and other people's judgement – _Gellert's_ judgement. 'Bitter.'

Gellert's smile was knowing, though his eye contact was gone again, scattered somewhere across the surface of the dirty lake water. It'd be cruel of him, only Albus was certain that his friend couldn't know what kind of hiding he was thinking of. 'I understand. I feel the same.'

'Do you?'

He fixed Albus's blue gaze with his own again, determined and forceful. 'Absolutely.'

With one word, in one second, Albus knew he was lost.


	25. 25: Dean and Seamus

Having lived with Harry for a year, it seemed really strange to think of him as the saviour of the wizarding world twice over. All the same, it wasn't something Seamus could argue with. While they'd all been living their first year at Hogwarts, something else had been going on, and Harry, Ron and Hermione had been onto it. It made him feel very juvenile and a little useless, and it didn't help that Dean's almost-fawning over whether or not Harry would wake up okay made him feel a bit jealous and defensive.

'Kind of wish we'd known to help, you know?'

'Maybe,' Dean agreed vaguely. 'I don't know. I think having a normal life is pretty underrated. I think I'd like to keep mine.'

Seamus tutted, ruffling his hair and flopping down onto Dean's bed where the boy himself was already sitting. 'Just muddling along, right? That's us.'

'That's us,' Dean agreed with a slight smile. 'We do that pretty well, I think.'

'Maybe if I didn't set stuff on fire so much.'

Dean laughed quietly, looking down at him before he turned back to the letter on his lap. His mum was a muggle, just getting used to having to use owl mail, but she were doing pretty well at it. She'd sent along some sweets and chocolate with it, even. Seamus was just reaching for it when Dean shook his head, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. 'No, no,' he said distantly, trying to focus on both the conversation and his mum's writing. 'I think it's for Harry.'

'For _Harry_?' Seamus said incredulously. 'He's asleep, mate. He'd share anyway.'

'Then let's give him the option to later,' Dean said quietly. 'He deserves it, after all. Come and take him it with me?'

'Can't be arsed.'

'Are you really going to make me walk all the way to the hospital wing on my own?'

They shared a look briefly before Seamus tutted and sat up again. 'Manipulative git. Men shouldn't use puppy-dog eyes. Leave it out.'

'Works, doesn't it?'

'_Leave it out_.'

Thankfully for Seamus's lethargy, it wasn't really a very long walk to the hospital wing anyway. They were there standing at Harry's bedside within ten minutes, carefully trying to balance their confectionary contribution so that it didn't topple the rest of the pile. Attached was a note, declaring them to be from both Dean and Seamus. As far as Dean was concerned, they came as a pair anyway. That declaration pleased Seamus more than he liked to say – even if they _had_ had the best friend talk far too many times already.

'Seriously,' Dean said, leaning away from Harry a little so as not to disturb him with his voice. 'You do think he'll be alright, don't you?'

'Of course he will. Give him a kiss if you care so much; I'm sure Sleeping Harry'll wake right up.'

Dean tutted, shoving him in the shoulder as they moved away from his bedside. 'Shut up. Shut _up_,' he repeated, gently smacking in the general direction of Seamus's face as he followed him along with kissy noises. It occurred to Seamus quite suddenly that they wouldn't be able to tease each other like this over the summer, and that once again he'd be back home alone with his parents – an only child, stuck inside just writing letters. It wouldn't be the same.

While he dared, he decided to press that thought, and tugged gently at the back of Dean's jumper. 'Hey. You _are_ going to come and stay over summer, aren't you?'

The grin he got back in return was excited, and it surprised him. He had expected Dean to accept, definitely, but not with such eagerness. He knew he couldn't step inside Dean's head and fully understand him, even though they'd connected quickly this year, but he had a faint idea that this had been something Dean had been thinking about for a while too. He was just too shy to ask. 'Yeah. I'd love to. You come stay at mine, too?'

'Yeah, I will do.'

'Cool.'

'Yeah.'

They grinned at one another sheepishly until Seamus tired of it, looking away with his hands stuffed into his pockets. 'Going back to the dorm, or d'you want to go for a walk or something?'

'You were tired before. Let's just go back. Besides,' he said, throwing him a feline smile. 'We can't explore too much now, or there'll be nothing left to mooch around next year.'


	26. 26: the Marauders

'"Kind of a shame we've already found so many secret passageways,' James reflected absently, kicking off his shoes and watching Peter, Sirius and Remus all doing their packing. He was a little too lazy to start his yet. 'Doesn't leave anything for the next six years, you know?'

'I reckon we'll still have stuff to find out,' Sirius said, with an obviously hopeful tone to his voice. 'Even _we_ can't scour this castle in one year.'

'And even if we _have_,' Peter said, 'we can just use it to our advantage. Less of seeing Evans; more of pranking Snape…'

'So kind of you, Peter,' Remus teased, smiling softly. 'I hear it hasn't been that long since the three of you got him last time.'

'Yes,' Sirius said, sitting up away from his trunk for a moment. 'That reminds me. Where _were_ you when that happened? You just disappeared that day – not in the hospital wing, not in the library…'

'He checked the hospital wing first,' James said pointedly, 'because you looked awful. No offence. You kind of still do.'

'Where'd that scar come from?' Peter asked uncertainly now that they were on the subject, reaching up to gently touch the mark that had appeared over the corner of Remus's mouth. It had originally been a slit that Madam Pomfrey had sewn closed, bless her heart. 'Looks bloody rough.'

'It was, actually,' Remus said, glad he didn't have to scramble for an excuse – that had happened far too many times earlier in the year, and he'd grown tired of the panic that set in when he didn't know how to answer their questions convincingly. His friends weren't stupid. 'Literally both bloody and rough. I was ill. Fainted forward onto a knife doing some extra potions practice.'

James hissed a word that'd have made Lily Evans wince, leaning forward to examine the damage. 'Why didn't you say? How come you weren't in the hospital wing?'

Remus smiled, trying to look embarrassed. Judging by Sirius's facial expression, it wasn't all that convincing, but he pressed on regardless. 'I'd been using the knife to cut up something rather unpleasant, and it got into my mouth. They took me to St. Mungo's, just to be sure.'

'You know,' Sirius said, 'for saying you're the most sensible person I know, you're not very sensible, are you?'

'I think that says more about your set of friends than it does about me, Sirius,' he answered gently, smiling as best he could without aggravating that cut of his. Really, of course, it hadn't been a knife at all. It had been his hands, somehow; tearing at his face as the bone extended to take the wolf's form. Silly, really. It hurt more for the damage he'd done to it writhing as he tried to deal with the transformation than it ever could have if he'd just endured the pain and stayed _still_. The problem was that logic aside, it was very difficult to remain still during transformations. Every time the full moon was over he forgot exactly how dreadful it was, and it wasn't the kind of thing he enjoyed learning over again.

Of course, Sirius wasn't to know any of this, and he wasn't to know how cruel it was to press the matter further, either. 'You need to start being more careful.'

'Come off it, Sirius,' James said reproachfully. 'He didn't mean to do it.'

'No,' Sirius agreed. That, at least, he seemed to believe – but he had his eye on the cut still, and though Remus tried to carry on normally with his packing he felt his friend's gaze on him very acutely. It'd be enough to make any man with a secret uncomfortable.

The train journey went unfortunately quickly. It was nice to be on the way home, of course, and away from lessons and exams, but Remus had never had friends like these before. He sensed he wouldn't have them for very much longer now that Sirius had gotten so curious, either. Well, it had always been something of a time bomb. Sirius was a very clever wizard, even if he didn't apply himself very well in his lessons. James was clever too, but not observant. These days Sirius seemed to have his eye on Remus enough of the time that it was alarming. There were too many signs that Remus couldn't hide; too many clues that he couldn't cover for.

'You'll write over the summer, won't you?' he asked all three of them as they pulled into the station, glancing between them for confirmation.

'At least once a month,' Sirius said nonchalantly, though his gaze lingered on Remus for a little too long for it to be comfortable. That time stipulation had been deliberate. 'If not more often. I'd offer you all to stay, but… well. They wouldn't like you and you wouldn't like them, so it'd be a bit pointless.'

'You're all welcome at mine,' James contributed. 'Reckon we've got room for all of you in my bedroom if you're not picky about sleeping on the floor – with sleeping bags, of course. You know.'

'Sounds great,' Sirius confirmed, and Peter was nodding eagerly too. Of course, things were a little more difficult for Remus. He couldn't be sure the timing would be right for him to visit, and it hurt that he couldn't say yes outright. He forced a smile.

'Let me know when,' he said. 'We're sometimes busy over the summer, but if we make sure it's a good week…'

'Definitely will,' James said. 'You tell me when you're free in your letters and I'll sort it out.'

They looked between each other, all four of them. They were pulling into the station now, and the air felt a little heavy. It was almost sad, even though they knew they'd be coming back next year; even though they knew they were heading for months and months without having to deal with Lily Evans and her utter contempt for all things Potter and Black, or McGonagall's hefty amounts of Transfiguration homework. There just wasn't anything else to say – not until they were all stepping down from the train onto the main platform.

'Write,' Remus insisted once more as his mother headed over with a warm smile. He'd never imagined there'd come a time when he'd be more thrilled to see his friends than his mother, but here it was. Well, he supposed, he'd have his mother forever, but he'd only have the others until an as yet unknown number of full moons away. Tick, tock.


	27. 27: Letters between Dean and Seamus

Dean,

You massive boggart! Why haven't you come to stay already? It's so boring at home these days. Mam just wants me to tell her about Hogwarts all the time, and how it's changed and how it hasn't. She's always harping on about Harry. Reminds me of you, actually. I keep having to remind her he's not sleeping off his fight with You Know Who anymore. Let that be a reminder to you too. No crying at bedtime at the thought he might be all comatose somewhere, alone and hurting.

Anyway. Mam says if you don't come to stay for a week or two starting Monday I'm allowed to kick you in the nads. Alright, no. She didn't say that. I'm gonna anyway if you refuse, though. It's boring here on my own, mate, and I'm not kidding. There's plenty of stuff we could do if we were both around, but for some reason you're not.

Seriously. You're coming to stay. Start packing.

What you been up to, anyway?

Seamus

Seamus,

You're so daft.

Yes, I'd love to come and stay. Send thanks to your mum. How do I get to yours for Monday, though? I know you mentioned Floo powder at school, but I obviously don't have any. Muggle house, remember? Mum'd drive me if it was closer, but… well. Ireland is an island. Cars don't go very well over water, and it's ages away from me anyway.

Are we allowed to fly at your house? Do you have a spare broom? I'd really love a go on one again. I can't stand being away from magic. I know you can't do any spells or anything while you're at home, but at least you kind of have the culture of it. I'm back around TV and pictures that don't move, and even football's a bit boring now.

Short answer – I'm bored too. See you Monday, transport willing.

As for what I've been up to? Nothing much. Reading textbooks – don't take the piss – and lounging around. Pretty standard. Pretty rubbish.

Dean

P.S. Don't show this letter to your mum, right? Not to ruin the fact that I swore, which is meant to be a bit cool, but if _my_ mum saw I'd written it she'd go off it, so… do us a favour and don't? Ta.


	28. 28: Letters between Pansy and Draco

Pansy,

There's a gathering at our home on Saturday. It's some event father's having. Come along? Bring Daphne. Blaise, Vince and Greg will be there too.

Draco

Draco,

Thank you. I'll be there, and so will Daph. She's staying at mine anyway. Do we need to bring anything?

P.

'P',

No, nothing, unless you've finished writing your Transfiguration essay. Mother believes it would be frowned upon for you and Daphne to stay, else I'd have asked you to. See you Saturday.

'D'


	29. 29: Letters between Rowena and Salazar

Dear Salazar,

It distresses me not to hear from you. I wish I could be there with you, but I know that times like these are generally best kept as a private, family affairs. Your father is a great loss, and I understand that – I feel it too. You know how highly I thought of him. Do try not to be too hurt by it, though. He would not have wanted you to dwell on it, and your brother needs to see you coping with it, too.

Salazar, I do wish you would come back to stay with us. I miss you very badly, and the others do too. At least write to us, and let us know how you are?

I _am_ sorry for your loss. I really am. I also think that you might benefit from a break from your home. It will only remind you of it to stay there, and you know Lysander will leave to stay with your cousin as soon as you aren't there. You would not be abandoning him.

Come back soon.

All my love,

Rowena

Dear Rowena,

I appreciated your owl. It cheered me. Unfortunately, I will not be able to do as you ask and return for a short while yet. We are still receiving visitors who have come to pay their respects, and intend to wait until they have stopped coming before we return to our lives. Rest assured that I am well; it is unpleasant, and it is a sad environment, but nothing I am incapable of managing.

I miss you too. Are you well? You said nothing about yourself. What of Godric and Helga? Tell me everything that I have missed in my absence.

I hope to see you as soon as is possible.

Yours,

Salazar


	30. 30: Letters between the Marauders

_To Remus,_

_I'm God-awful at letters, but I know you'll be upset if we get back and you didn't get one, so I'm trying. Been a bit boring here at home. You'll know, being an only child – James would, too. I guess Sirius must feel like an only child sometimes, too, seeing how he doesn't get on with his brother._

_I think James set the visit date for a fortnight away. Are you going? Hope so._

_Sorry this is rubbish, but can't say I didn't have a go._

_From Peter_

Dear Peter,

You're not awful at letters. This one was brilliant, so thank you. It's nice to hear from you at last, even if it was a long time coming! I did write to you a while back, but I'm not sure you got it. It was a few weeks ago, anyway.

It's boring here, too. I think we're all a little too accustomed to staying in the same room to go back to being on our own again. At least we'll see each other son – yes, I _am_ coming to stay at James's, and I'm very excited. I'll see you in a fortnight? I'm going to assume you won't write again in the meantime given how long you took before, but feel free to if the fancy takes you!

Remus

_Remus,_

_Glad to hear it! That'll be a full house, then – well. Literally. Mum's quite excited, actually. I think dad's a bit less keen, but he'll love all of you, so he'll deal with it. He'll like all the extra food, too. Mum's desperate to fatten you all up, see. I told her how skinny you were. You like cheesecake, right? Though I know chocolate'll be your favourite. That's already on the menu._

_Not to jump topics completely, but you would tell me if there was something wrong, wouldn't you? Just in general. I just wouldn't want you to think you couldn't say. I mean. I know me and Sirius act like it a lot, but I'm really not into all that manly-man business. Not really, anyway. The point is, if you're having a hard time, then you can say it. Whatever you want, whenever. We're mates and that's what mates are for._

_I don't want to be vague. Sorry. That's the last of it. I just wanted you to know._

_Sorry._

_Anyway, I guess I'll see you soon. Next week, isn't it? That's come up fast. Can't wait. It's dead boring not living in a dorm!_

_James_

Dear James,

I'm very excited too. Please don't let your poor mother make too much effort over us. I'm sure she's just as stressed as she is excited and we're really not worth it. That being said, I'm sure her food is absolutely top-notch and I look forward to telling her so.

I appreciate that, James. I do. Thank you. I'm really alright, though I'll bear it in mind if anything comes up. I don't want you to feel silly for writing that, though. It sounds as though you were expecting to hear something in particular, and I wouldn't want you to think you were completely off-track. I did just feel very off-colour by the end of last year. It didn't help that I knew I'd miss Hogwarts over the summer – sad act, I am. Sorry to burden you with such a studious lump of a friend.

Can't wait for next week. It'll be great to see you.

Remus

_My very dearest Remus Wem-Wems Loony Loopy Lupin,_

_I will literally kill you if you don't come to James's this week. I used that word deliberately, 'literally'? I know you hate it when people use it and actually mean 'practically'. I don't mean it, and I still wrote it. Ha! Suck on that. I just know what you're like. Don't back out. Be social. Love us. Come. Etc._

_Just be there, okay? I think James said you would be, but you'd better not be lying to him. We'll all cry. Don't wish that on us._

_About your last letter, though – the thing is, she's just not a very nice bird. I don't like people who act like every synonym you've ever seen for 'genitals', but self-righteous people are even worse. It's __nothing to do with her ginger face__. It never has been. I don't see why she thinks it's okay to stick her little button nose in everywhere and start lecturing us. Yeah, I know she's meant to be study-buddies or girlfriends with Snape or whatever, but it's just not right. Fair enough if it was one of us, but it's not. He's a Slytherin, for Merlin's sake. How close can they be? He's probably just using her as a friend anyway. It's not like she's hideous and stupid._

_Kind of wish she was, though. It'd be much easier to rip it out of her._

_Listen, I hope you don't mind me sending such long letters. I know the others only write short ones, but it's really bad here now I'm actually a Gryffindor and I know what it's like living around people who aren't elitist gits. It's just good to get a long reply back to read, and I guessed out of all of us you would like that the most._

_If you tell James this I will personally remove any evidence you were once a bloke with blokey bits. I should warn you of that. That being said, I don't think you would say. I think you're pretty good at the whole 'in confidence' thing._

_I just like writing letters. I know that's weird 'cos I hate writing usually and I don't look like the type, but I do._

_Promise that's the end of that. I just wanted to you to know I wasn't vomiting words at you for no logical reason._

_There is kind of something important I wanted to say, but I don't want to say it in a letter and I don't want to say it in front of the boys, either. I think you might know what I'm on about, though, and I don't want to leave you worrying for ages about what I'm going to say for the sake of saying it face-to-face. Here goes:_

_I honestly don't care. Actually, I want to help. And you know what I'm talking about._

_At first I thought it must be some kind of recurring illness, but then I wondered why you'd keep it a secret, so I sort of went off on this track of… well, it must be contagious, whatever it is. I couldn't think of any other reason you'd hide it from us. And then I noticed it was every month like clockwork, and at first I made some kind of stupid joke to myself about girls and that time of the month, but… it just kind of occurred to me. You know. All the scratches twigged me, maybe. I don't know. So I read up on it when I got here._

_For the record, I have a lot of time here that I'd rather spend alone, and you know that, so don't think I've changed and that I enjoy reading now. I don't. I just needed to know and we had books here I could read about it._

_Look, it's not a big deal. Okay? It's not an issue. You're just Remus._

_I haven't told James and Peter, just so you know. I know James has kind of realised there's something and I think he might have prodded you about it, but I haven't said anything. I thought it might be the kind of thing you'd want to talk about yourself, and that's understandable. I do think you should tell them, though. They're good lads. They're not going to mind._

_Were you worried about it all year? You did always look so nervous. You're a shit liar, too – did you know that? James'll believe anything and Peter probably doesn't think you're capable of lying, but I know better and I spotted it a mile off. Sorry. Going to have to try harder to trick your best mate in future._

_Actually, I might as well write it. I said I didn't want to write any of this in a letter, I know, but it just… came out. Can't be bothered going back to scribble out – too lazy. The point is, I've said it now. I might as well go the whole hog so you can be sure I'm not saying it's okay but actually have no idea what the truth is. Like, say I SAID it was okay but it turned out that I just thought you were allergic to marshmallows and we got wires crossed or whatever. So. Here goes._

_I know you're a werewolf. Least, I'm pretty sure you are. And it's fine. It really is._

_I feel all kinds of awful for telling James to be one for Halloween now. I wasn't going to mention it, but I keep remembering it and feeling really bad. Is that okay? Will you let me off?_

_I hope we can still be best mates even though I worked this out before you wanted to tell me. You know I'm too forward to keep it in and I know you're a bit more inclined towards having a private life and not sharing all your personal secrets and that, so I hope this is kind of a happy medium between the two. What I'm trying to say in this horribly convoluted way is… I hope that you're okay with it. Let me know._

_I was going to write something else here, but it seems petty now. Sorry again for the long letter._

_Eternal platonic fondness,_

_Sirius_

Dear Sirius,

This is going to have to be really short because I've spent the last day or two reading over it and now we're packing up to go off to James's, but I thought I should send something back because you said you like long letters and even though I can't give you one at the moment, I don't want to leave you completely without a reply.

Thank you. I hate to gush and I won't ever again, hopefully, but I can't tell you how relieved I was to read that. I can't tell you what it means to me.

You practically gave me a heart attack with the way you wrote it, though, you git.

Look forward to seeing you at James's. Really. Thank you.

Reciprocal eternal platonic fondness,

Remus

P.S. Really. I'd kiss you but you'd call me gaywolf or Queermus or something; I know you.

P.P.S. Don't call me either of those things now I've given you the idea. It's not accurate and it's not fair.

P.P.P.S. Ignore your family. They're awful and you're brilliant, and you'll be away soon enough.


End file.
